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ELIZABETH 

AND 

HER 

GERMAN 

GARDEN 


Br ?. 


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❖ 


Ube princess 
IbencB 
of pless . . . 
jEbition 

With a new preface. 
Exquisite lithographed 
cover, in colors, 25c., 
Cloth, special cover de- 
sign and frontispiece by 
J. C. Leyendecker, 
75c. 





“ Hold on a moment,’’ cried Adolfo, “ and I’ll save you ! ” 


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w 

BY 

MIGHTY WAVES 


A THRILLING. ROMANCE 

OF ILL-FATED GALVESTON 


Sue Greenleaf 



ILLUSTRATED 


The publishers are authorized to state that the author 
will donate a percentage of her royalty 
to the Galveston sufferers 


CHICAGO 

LAIRD & LEE, PUBLISHERS 


E D 







ffThrwry of Ck>n<3frew 

n^, Copies RccetveD 

JAN 31 1901 

Sxx-..^...^.^^.. 

i SECOND COPY 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1900, 
liY William IL Lke, 

in the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, I). C 


TO 

THE NEW CITY OF GALVESTON 
WHICH, 

SUBSTANTIALLY_^AND SUPERBLY REBUILT, 
AND IN NO FURTHER DANGER FROM 
WIND AND WAVE, 

WILL HAVE BECOME, IN TEN YEARS, THE 
GREATEST AMERICAN PORT ON 
THE GULF OF MEXICO, 

THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY 


DEDICATED, 


CONTENTS 


Chapter. 


Page. 

I. 

Lucinda'S Prophecy, . . . « 

9 

II. 

What Dr. Flint Had to Say, 

. 26 

III. 

Bob, 

45 

IV. 

No Fear of a Storm, .... 

. 53 

V. 

No Art of Persuasion, ' . . . . 

63 

VI. 

Arthur! Arthur! Save Me! 

. 72 

VII. 

No Recourse, ...... 

82 

VIII. 

A Night of Horror at the Tremont, 

. 94 

IX. 

On to the Strand! ..... 


X. 

Alone on the Sea, .... 

. . 112 

XI. 

Adolfo’s Deeds of Heroism, 

125 

XII. 

Homeless, ...... 

. 135 

XIII. 

Early Sunday Morning, .... 

147 

XIV. 

A Sunday Full of Surprises and Sorrow, 

. 157 

XV. 

In Full Possession, ..... 

. 169 

XVI. 

The Horror Grows, .... 

. 182 

XVII. 

A-Meeting Takes Place, .... 

194 

XVIII 

The Search for Adolfo, 

. . 207 

XIX. 

Galveston Under Martial Law, 

. 226 

XX. 

An Eventful Day, .... 

. 241 

XXI. 

United, ....... 

254 


Conclusion, . . . 



Appendix, ...... 

. 269 


Wed by Mighty Waves, 


CHAPTER I 

Lucinda’s prophecy 

On a bright Friday morning, September the 7th, 1900, 
two men were sitting, talking earnestly, in a luxuriously 
furnished office on Post Office street, Galveston, Texas. 

In front of a roll-top mahogany desk, the owner of 
the place swung back and forth in his chair, a look of 
intense preoccupation in his handsome dark eyes. 

He was a man about thirty-five years old, tall and 
shapely, with the mark of a successful career stamped 
on his face, and a resolute, intensely energetic expression 
on his lips and chin. His name, was Arthur Stoker' 
and his profession that of a promoter of large enterprises. 
A Southerner by birth, he had recently made Galveston 
the center of his operations. 

By him sat his friend, George Boyessen, a prominent 
real-estate speculator of the city, younger by a few years 
and with blue eyes and blond hair in strong contrast 
with the dark beard of Arthur Stokes. He also seemed 
somewhat restless and excited as he listened to his 
friend’s impassioned tale. 

“Yes, George, T have just seen her — seen her for the 
first time in eight years — ” 


( 9 ) 


10 


LUCINDA'S PROPHECY 


‘‘You don’t mean that Mary Phelps is now in Galves- 
ton?” 

“Indeed, I do;' and although I did not have time or 
the presence of mind to speak to her, as she just stepped 
into a car, with a little girl she held by the hand, I 
have no doubt at all but she was Mary, my Mary, 
whom the most cruel and mysterious circumstances have 
wrenched from me.” 

“Well, all that I can say then, is that she cannot have 
been here long or I could not have failed to hear 
about her. Society in Galveston is not so extensive that 
a new comer, oi Mary Phelps’ beauty and accomplish- 
ments, could pass unnoticed. But if she has thrown you 
up so abruptly, so unjustly, Arthur, don’t you feel that 
it would be better for you never to give her another 
thought I” 

“Oh, don’t speak that way, old man,” exclaimed 
Stokes, wiping the unbidden moisture from his eyes, 
“I have always felt that she had been influenced by others, 
probably by slanderous statements, when she broke our 
engagement without even a word of explanation. I 
know, I know there must be a terrible mistake some- 
where! But enough of this just now; I’ll have to think 
it over more quietly. Speaking of her, however, reminds 
me that I had a call yesterday from Lucinda Stokes, 
an old colored member of our household when I was a 
little chap. She was a sort of a privileged character, 
and came to me on the strength of old times, asking 
me to help her out of some money troubles. I promised 
to go to her house this morning at nine o’clock. Will 


LUCINDA^S PROPHECY 


11 


you walk down with me? She lives out near the beach.” 

‘'Lucinda Stokes?” replied Boyessen, “oh, I remember 
now; she is the colored prophetess of Galveston. I have 
been to see her once. She does live in the Denver 
Resurvey. We will take the car and get off one block 
from — ” 

“You will have to be the guide, George, for I now 
confess my ignorance of the exact situation of my old 
mammy’s hoine.” 

Before Stokes had finished speaking, his friend had 
handed him his hat, and both had moved to the private 
door of the office; Just as they were stepping out, the 
cheery voice of a lad was heard from the other room 
used by Arthur Stokes calling out: 

“Any message, sir? When shall I tell callers you are 
coming back?” and the speaker stepped into the hall for 
an answer. 

He was a bright looking, red headed and freckled 
boy of twelve or thirteen, rather undersized for his age, 
but with plenty of pluck written in unspeakable signs 
on his pleasant, open face. 

“Well, Bob,” answered his employer, smiling kindly 
at the evidently devoted lad, “you may say that I ^all 
not be back before lunch.” 

“All right, sir; I won’t budge till you return.” And 
the two men just caught the elevator on its downward 
trip. Once in the street, Boyessen had soon hailed a 
car, and they were rolling rapidly toward Lucinda 
Stokes’ lodgings. 

Very few words were spoken by the two young men 


12 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


on tlie way ou't, but the moment they arrived in sight 
of the frame house they were to visit, George Boyessen 
stepped in front of his friend and said : 

^'Before we enter that witch’s house, promise me, 
Arthur, that you will not allow anything the old hag 
may say to influence you in any way. She is a croaker 
of the Avorst kind when it comes to prophesying. Once, 
she gave me the blues for a week after I had called on 
her; but, I have to admit that everything she predicted 
came true!” 

am, I hope,’ too much of a man to be ‘hoodooed’ 
by any old negro woman;” protested Stokes; “so don’t 
bother about me, George, I am all right;” and taking 
his friend by the arm they both entered the cabin. 

A colored boy had asked them in and went out to 
hunt Lucinda. I.ong before she was in sight they heard 
her singing a familiar negro melody. When she ar- 
rived at the door, she set down a basket, before she 
began speaking to her visitors, and called out: 

“Abe, come here, you nigger, and take them crabs 
to the kitchen.” 

The boy obeyed at once and, still without noticing 
her visitors, she continued: 

“Them air the last crabs nigger or white man is 
gwine ter git outen that Gulf fur many a day,” and 
then awakening as out of a kind of trance, she exclaimed: 
“Law sakes! if thar ain’t my old missus son! Mornin’, 
Mars Arthur! You sure am a Stokes if there ever am 
one!” Suddenly, changing her welcome smile to an 
angry scowl, she exclaimed: “Law sakes! if this man 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


13 


didn’t a come with you, Lucinda would a never have 
asked him inside her house and she looked savagely 
at George Boyessen. 

The moment Arthur Stokes could get a word in, he 
said: 

“Why, Aunt Lucinda, George is a fine fellow and my 
friend, and he came here to accommodate me/’ 

“He came here once befoa, Mars Arthur, to seek 
wisdom,” was the emphatic reply, “an’ the moment he 
gits it he goes out and reports that I am a hoodooer.” 

George Boyessen’s face showed guilt as he said: “You 
must pardon me, Lucinda, I certainly did not intend to 
do you harm. Every prophecy you made has come true 
to the letter. But, if you want me to, I will step outside 
while my friend Arthur and you talk your affairs over.” 

Before Stokes could enter a protest, Lucinda sprang in 
front of Boyessen, and shaking her clenched fist in his 
face, exclaimed: 

“Sot right where you am, young man, I have some 
more prophesying to do and you have to hear it. Now 
listen: Befoa the days reach the count of the fingers on 
one hand you will be no moa!” 

Arthur Stokes’ face blanched at the awful prediction, 
and George Boyessen’s face grew a shade paler while 
he began to tremble like one with 

“Luciirda,” cried Stokes, as he arose from his chair, 
“this is very, very wicked of you to so cruelly prophesy 
one’s sudden death. So you had better stop this per- 
formance. Rather tell me what I can do for you. I 
came out, you remember, to see about that. We have 


14 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


many engagements, my friend and I, in the city to-day, 
and we cannot stay here much longer. Just tell me 
what assistance I can render you this morning.” 

“You can oblige me, Mr. Stokes,” replied Lucinda, 
with much spirit and dignity, “by sitting down until 
I finish my say , to you.” 

Arthur Stokes moved his chair nearer his friend's, 
and the old negress resumed her gloomy forebodings. 

“Them crabs I done brought in from the beech,” she 
said, in a low, impressive voice, “am the last the niggers 
or white folks here will get out of the Gulf of Mexico 
for many weeks.” 

The two men looked at each other and winked, while 
Lucinda's eyes began examining absent-mindedly a crack 
in the floor. 

“I got much information from de water,” she went 
on, as if speaking to herself, “and from de curious 
animals and shells now lying on de beach, de likes 
of which dis nigger, or no one in Galveston I specks, 
has neber seen. De second sun will not rise before 
Galveston Island will be covered by de Gulf. Most 
of de city will be destroyed and thousands of people 
be -washed into de Gulf to sta'y dar until Gabriel blows 
his trumpet. Other thousands will rot in de open air 
and dar bones bleach in de hot sun — de sun which 
your friend dar and Lucinda will neber see rise after 
to-morrow !” 

“Dear me, Aunt Lucinda, how dramatic ^''ou are this 
morning,” interrupted Stokes, trying to change the cur- 
rent of the old negress' mind, by not giving much im- 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


15 


portance to her somber predictions; and then, turning 
to his friend, he added: “George, what do you S'ay to 
our going? If we don’t skip out the goblins will get 

US.” 

Bravely he tried to smile as he spoke and arose to 
go; but George Boyessen made no effort to treat 
Lucinda’s words lightly. He simply replied: 

“I am ready this moment to go, Arthur,” and without 
a word of good-ibye to their hostess, he left the room 
at once. 

Calling out to his friend to wait a few minutes for 
him outside, Arthur Stol<,es came to the old aunty, almost 
doubled up as her gaze seemed more and more attracted 
to the crack in the floor, and said good humoredly; 

“Cheer up, Aunt Lucinda, cheer up, and, first of all, 
let me help you out of your troubles; here, good woman, 
are fifty dollars and you can have as much more if you 
need it. Come, come out of your trance and tell me 
what I can do for you.” 

“You am just like your ma. Mars Arthur, good and 
charitablp. It’s too late though to help Lucinda, chile, 
her death warrant am done signed; de good Lord am 
gwin ter take her away in de storm. Only one more 
sun will my eyes see rise on earth. Your friend’s pass 
am sent in with mine and de good Lord am gwin ter 
take him too.” 

For some reason, inexplicable to himself, Arthur 
could not help half believing the sinister words of the 
old negress. Still, rousing himself from the spell she 
was casting over him, he said in a cheery tone: 


16 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


“Aunt Lucinda, you are not well or you would not 
talk so wildly. I am going straight back to town and 
send you a lot of nice things with a doctor and some 
medicine. In the meantime, cheer up, cheer up! And 
now good-bye until to-morrow, when I will come at 
this same hour. After you have seen the nice things 
I shall send you by the doctor you will forget all the 
evil you have prophesied just now. Good-bye again.” 

And without waiting to hear another word from 
Lucinda, Arthur Stokes hurried from the room and 
joined his friend in the street. 

“She is a croaker, sure enough, George, but I do 
earnestly hope that you are not going to let her depress 
you. See that you profit by the advice you gave me 
before entering. She is a sort of calamity-howler, 
anyway; I believe she is suffering from a severe case 
of melancholia, a mild case of insanity. I shall send 
her by a doctor. a lot of nice things to eat and wear 
and I wager when I call to see her in the morning, she 
will be viewing life more cheerfully and sensibly. Come 
on, my friend, don’t look so depressed. It’s nothing 
but an old woman’s gibberish.” 

“ ’Tis true,” replied Boyessen, “she is nothing but an 
old woman in her dotage, and talks arrant nonsense; 
nevertheless a fellow does not feel hilarious when he is 
told that his death is to take place within twenty-four 
hours. Particularly when he is hale and hearty and his 
ambition to be famous and rich is as strong as mine. 
Still I must not be much of a philosopher if I grow 
pale at the mention of death.” 





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LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


19 


As the couple reached town, P)0'yessen refused his 
friend’s invitation to do a little shopping with him for 
Lucinda, but promised at parting to meet him at lunch 
in less than an hour. 

Arthur Stokes made his purchases, and pleased as a 
school boy, he stepped into Doctor Flint’s office with 
his arms full of bundles and a negro boy following with 
more. 

He was on intimate terms with this elderly and re- 
spected physician; so. When he entered the room thus 
laden, the doctor exclaimed, smilingly: 

“Good-morning, Stokes, what is the meaning of all 
these bundles?” 

“It means, doctor,” he replied, “that I have a patient 
for you, and these things are presents I wish you to take 
to her in your buggy.” 

For a moment the doctor eyed him with amused suspi- 
cion, then remarked dryly: 

“Humph, she’s a lucky girl, to have you buy such 
presents for her.” 

Stokes laughed heartily, then said: “She is a lucky 
girl, doctor, although rather too old to be called a girl. 
The title of grandmother would be more suitable for 
Lucinda Stokes.” 

“All these things for that old crazy negress, Lucinda 
Stokes? Why, my dear fellow, what do you mean?” 

“I mean,” replied Stokes, “that I bought , these for 
Aunt Lucinda, who used to be my marrimy, at home, 
when I was a child. I believe she is ill and I want 
you to go to see her at once, on my account, and take 


20 LUCINDA'S PROPHECY 

the packages along with you, if it is not too much 
trouble.” 

“What is the matter with her, Stokes?” 

“That’s what I want you to discover, doctor. I believe 
she is suffering from melancholia, or some sort of mild 
insanity. A few moments ago she has seriously upset 
George Boyessen’s peace of mind by telling him he 
would surely be killed by a flood within twenty-four 
hours. In fact she claims to have inside knowledge of a 
fearful calamity that will almost depopulate the Island 
City and lay it waste.” 

“I half believe in her, Stokes,” remarked the doctor, 
looking rather startled, “she has foretold every calamity 
that has visited Galveston during the fifty years I have 
lived here. Her predictions have always been made 
only from twelve to twenty-four hours ahead of the time 
of their realization. I tell you, my dear fellow, if Lucinda 
has really announced the arrival of a tidal wave or hurri- 
cane it’s going to come. Happily it may not be of such 
dire consequence after all. Now I’ll have to go, Stokes, 
for I have another engagement at one P.^M.” 

The doctor had all the packages piled into his buggy 
and said, as he drove off, laughing only half-heartedly: 
“Don’t mind the gibberish of the old woman, Arthur, 
Galveston has weathered many a bad storm and can 
stand lots more!” 

George 'Boyessen strictly avoided, while at luncheon 
with his friend, any allusion to their visit to Lucinda. 
On the other hand, he endeavored to get Arthur to talk 
about Mary Phelps. 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


21 


In answer to his question how long* it had been since 
he saw her, before the fortuitous meeting on Avenue 
the day preceding, Stokes replied: 

“Eight years — eight long years passed without my 
obtaining any knowledge whatever of her whereabouts.’* 

“A long time, surely, for a society queen to remain 
heart whole and fancy free,” said Boyessen. “I’ll wager 
that she is either married to some capitalist, or has been 
and is now a widow.” 

“I .certainly' believe that some one has terribly mis- 
represented me to her,” mused Stokes, as if speaking 
to himself, in chivalrous defence of his former love. “I 
cannot — I will not allow myself to believe that it was 
the low ebb of my finances which caused her to treat 
me with such injustice. Be it as it may, she holds the 
same place in my heart that she held eight years ago.” 
After a few minutes of silence, he concluded with a 
burst of energy that moved his friend: “But, now that 
I have seen her, I will find her, whether married or 
single, and know from her own lips why she jilted me.” 

“By Jove, old man,” cried Boyessen, “she is not worth 
your thoughts; and yet, I cannot but admire your pluck 
in ferreting the matter out, and I will help you all I 
can. In fact. I’ll turn sleuth to-morrow, notwithstand- 
ing Lucinda’s prediction. If the ' grim monster is to 
overtake me, I can not be better employed than helping 
a friend to fathom the mysteries of a woman’s heart. 
In fact, I am going to try this very afternoon and see 
what information I can turn up in reference to your 
ladylove’s residence. In the meantime, Arthur, don’t 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


worry over what Lucinda said. Good-bye, Lam gone.” 

And before Arthur Stokes could make a reply, 
Boyessen had closed the door of the restaurant and was 
hurrying along the street. 

“If ever a man’s calm judgment was upset, mine 
is just at present, and grievously so. First, the meeting 
with Mary, with the cruel memory her sweet face evoked 
in my heart; and then this absurd but mind-torturing 
prediction of old Lucinda — Poor George, he seems hit 
pretty hard — But I must do something at once to dis- 

ir* 

cover Mary’s whereabouts — ” 

The thought had no sooner shaped itself, than Stokes 
hurried down the street to the police station. The chief 
was in his office, and Arthur, who was in excellent terms 
with him, entered without hinderance. 

Refusing the proffered chair, he stood hat in hand as 
he said : 

“Chief, if you have a detective in town to whom a 
private matter can be confided, I want his services — ^from 
this moment until my object is attained.” 

“I know of a Pinkerton man in town; I may be able 
to secure his services for you. I will see now what I 
can do,” answered the chief, without asking any unwel- 
come question. A moment after he had touched his 
bell, a tall dark man appeared in the chief’s office. 

“This gentleman,” said the police superintendent, 
speaking to the detective, “is Mr. Arthur Stokes, a friend 
of mine and a prominent business man in this city; he 
wishes to employ your services.” 

“The mission I want to confide to you, sir, is a very 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


S3 

peculiar one/’ stated Stokes, without further preamble. 
"There is a lady at present staying- in Galveston, some- 
where in the neighborhood of Avenue ""I,” who eight 
years ago was Miss Mary Phelps. Now, I have reasons 
to believe that she is married, and of course bears a 
different name. I wish to find out her present address. 
When I saw her she was leading a litte girl by the hand. 
Now ask me any questions that may help you to discover 
her.” 

""Well/’ replied the detective, ""I wish to know some- 
thing about her personal appearance, and her character.” 

"‘Her character?” Stokes answered, somewhat heatedly, 
""Why, my dear sir, she is, she has always been, an angel 
of purity and goodness. If some terrible mistake^ had 
not happened — God only knows how — she would, this 
moment, be my wife.” ^ 

The chief’s face showed quite a friendly interest while 
the detective’s onl}^ comment was: “Ah, I see!” 

"‘Her looks?” continued Arthur Stokes. “Why, sir, 
I could not do herqustice if I were to use all the adjec- 
tives and adverbs in the vocabulary that mean beauty 
and high attainments. Only one word fits her truly 
and fully — she is an angel!” 

“To be sure, to be sure,” softly assented the detective, 
“but what is the color of her hair and eyes? What is 
her height, her nationality?” 

“I understand,” interrupted Stokes. "‘She is above the 
average stature and has beautiful brown hair, and eyes 
like violets. She is a native born American of Scotch- 
English ancestry.” 


24 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


‘This is sufficient, Mr. Stokes, I will take your address, 
and report shortly.” 

After carefully writing down the information thus sup- 
plied him, the detective bowed to his client and the chief 
and at once left the room. 

“He is a veritable genius in his line, Mr. Stokes,” said 
the chief, “and it is a piece of good luck for you that 
he has been detained here, awaiting orders from his 
headquarters. If he does not find out all you want to 
know about the lady by to-morrow morning, my guess 
will be sadly off.” 

“I trust you are not mistaken, chief,” replied Stokes. 
“In the meantime if you should accidentally get any 
information in relation to this matter,. kindly let me know 
about it. He walked to the door, then suddenly ex- 
claimed: “How forgetful I am! I have not given the 
man any money for his expenses. Here, chief,” and 
he pulled out a $50 bill out of a roll of greenbacks, 
“would you kindly see to it that your man gets this as 
soon as possible? I should be greatly obliged.” 

The superintendent graciously undertook the mission 
of supplying the detective with the funds placed at his 
disposal, and his visitor left him with many hearty thanks. 

Arthur Stokes did not return to his office until some 
time after he had eaten his supper at the Tremont. He 
would hardly have gone to it at all that night, had he 
not, of a sudden, remembered that he had left his desk 
and safe both unlocked. But he felt like a criminal, 
when he saw sitting in his deserted office the boy Bob, 
the picture of despair, faithfully waiting for him, ac- 
cording to his promise of the morning. 


LUCINDA’S PROPHECY 


25 


‘‘A gentleman called about an hour ago/’ said the 
boy, after his employer had most considerately expressed 
his regrets, ‘‘and he left this note on your desk. 
If you had not come soon I was going to lock up and 
go to the hotel to report to you.” 

Arthur Stokes took the letter, but before opening it, 
handed the boy a ten dollar bill and said: 

“Here, Bob, take this, your staying after office hours 
is worth much more to me— and now run home to 
supper.” 

The generous employer did not hear the boy’s thanks 
nor saw him leave the room, for he had torn tlie envelope 
open and was reading its contents, which were as follows : 

“Mr. Stokes: — When you hire me again I hope you 
will give me a hard job. The one you intrusted me with 
this morning was mere child’s play. In three hours 
after I left you I had spotted the lady. She is staying 
with relatives, Judge and Mrs. James B. Phelps, at num- 
ber East Broadway. Please phone the chief if you 

want me again, and allow me to sign, 

“Sleuth No. 1.” 

“Sleuth No. 1,” repeated Arthur Stokes, to himself. 
“I’ll vow he is a pretty clever fellow; I shall send him 
another fifty in the morning. Then I shall call upon Mary 
and know the truth. After all, the day has ended more 
satisfactorily than it began.” 

With a smile of contentment on his face the young 
promoter closed his desk and safe; and as he left his 
office, softly whistled a favorite opera tune, on his way 
to the Tremont, 


CHAPTER II 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 

Early Saturday morning, September the eighth, 
Arthur Stokes was busy at his desk answering letters 
and examining business papers. A smile played over 
his face as he reviewed the prospects of the day. He 
was happy. He knew Mary’s address and was hurrying 
to get through his morning mail so as to be ready to 
call upon her when 4he proper hour arrived to do so. 

No doubt the ill-treated but faithful lover of the days 
gone by had in mind a reconciliation. He would not 
even allow himself to think that Mary was married, and 
he pictured, as delightful and certain, the result of his 
interview with her, their early marriage and complete 
happiness. 

Suddenly, the smile on his face gave way for a moment 
to a look of grave concern. He stepped to an open 
window, papers in hand. The sky looked ominous and 
the wind was blowing a fierce gale from the northeast, 
carrying in its path all the loose stuff it found in its way. 
Big drops of rain fell now and then, the clouds obscured 
the sun and a dense gloom seemed to settle over the 
whole city. 

Arthur Stokes was aroused from the spell the scene 
had cast over him by his office boy pleading to go home, 
to be with his mother during the storm. The thought 

(26) 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


27 


of Lucinda’s prophecy came back to him like a flash, 
yet he tried to drive the boy’s fears away by saying: 

“Go home, if you like, Bob, and stick to your mother 
to the last; still I do not think we are going to have 
much of a storm.” 

“I am sure we are,” cried Bob, excitedly. “The water 
was up to our fence when I left home at five thirty this 
morning. I will get a dray and bring mother and the 
children and the things dpwn town.” 

“Do, Bob,” said Mr. Stokes, “and if I can help you 
afterwards let me know. I can get along without you 
to-day. It is only eight o’clock now, but never mind, 
run on; if I need any one in the office. I’ll ring for a 
messenger. Only, as soon as you get into town with 
your folks report to me or let me have your new address.” 

With a “Thank you, sir,” Bob ran down the steps and 
onto the street. He hailed a large express wagon that 
was trudging along empty, and the driver reluctantly 
agreed to let -the boy have his services, when he saw it 
was a five dollar bill Bob had thrust into his hand, in 
anticipated payment for a couple of hours’ work. 

He did not sympathize, however, with Bob’s fears and 
thought him a fool for parting with his money for such 
an absurd reason. Nevertheless he drove with all possi- 
ble speed, anxious to get the job over and be ready for 
another, as he well knew that there were more foolishly 
frightened people in Galveston besides Bob, and he had 
great hopes of getting several other similar jobs during 
the day. 

In the meantime, Arthur Stokes stood by the window 


28 WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 

wrapped up in thougfht as he listened to the furious wind. 
It would not have been difficult for one knowing- him 
to guess the nature of his meditation. He was thinking 
of Mary. 

■ “Before twelve o’clock!’' he fiercely exclaimed, “I will 
manage to see her, if possible, and know the whole 
truth,” and then, quieting down again he took his seat 
at the desk and resumed his letter-writing. 

The clock struck ten as he finished his task, and just 
at that moment Doctor Flint entered his office. 

“Good-morning, Stokes!” he called out, in a cheery 
tone, “you do not seem to be worrying over Lucinda’s 
prophecy. Still, I tell you, it’s horrible outside, and I 
believe the old witch spoke wiser than she knew.” 

“Surely, doctor,” replied Stokes, “you do not believe 
we are going to have such a storitT as Lucinda pre- 
dicted?” 

“Not so bad, possibly, but, as sure as fate, the wind 
and the waves are going to give us a merry dance to-day, 
and, no doubt, lives will be lost and much property 
destroyed, especially along the beach.” 

“I hope,” interrupted Stokes, “that it will not be even 
as bad as you predict. By the way, doctor, you saw 
Lucinda yesterday, did you not? And that reminds me 
that I promised to call on her again at nine this morn- 
ing! Let me see, it is now — ” looking at his watch. 

“Ten,” finished the doctor, “and you would be very 
foolish to keep the appointment, even if the appointed 
time had not gone by. The truth is, Stokes, I returned 
from her place less than an hour ago; already the water 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


29 


was rising all around her; yet she stoutly refused to 
leave the house. She said her time had come, and 
she was willing to obey the voice of the Lord.” 

‘Tt is a sin/’ cried Arthur Stokes, ‘'to allow the poor 
old soul to stay there and perish. Doctor, I will get a 
carriage and drive out after her.” 

‘Tt is useless, Stokes. I offered her every inducement 
to come with me. Then I tried to force her to abandon 
her shanty. But she said the whole town could not make 
her leave her doomed home!” 

“Poor Aunt Lucinda!” exclaimed Stokes. 

“She was ill when I saw her yesterday,” continued the 
doctor, “and I really thought she was losing her mind. 
She talked so much and so wildly. Much of what she 
said was about your family, which she seems to love 
very dearly. She spoke of your sister Marguerite, and 
of her strange marriage to an Italian.” 

“Stop,” interrupted Stokes, excitedly, “doctor, I must- 
see Lucinda, I will go now!” 

“Wait a moment,” resumed the physician pulling a 
long, official looking parcel from his inside pocket, 
“Lucinda handed me this package to be delivered to you 
after you promise positively not to try and see her to- 
day. Shall I give it to you, Stokes, under this con- 
dition ?’’ 

“Do you know the contents, doctor?” was the reply. 

“In part only,” said Dr. Flint. 

“Tell me, then, what you know, doctor, before I make 
a promise which I may have to break.” 

The physician moved his chair nearer the one occupied 


30 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


by Stokes. It was now difficult for a conversation 
to be carried on, for the noise of the wind and rain on 
the outside had g-rown almost to a roar. 

'T soon discovered,” beg'an the doctor, 'That some- 
thing more than a prospective storm was ailing Lucinda, 
when I called to see her yesterday. Really I thought 
she was losing her mind, and my first care was to have 
her swallow some sedative to quiet her overwrought 
nervous system. I did succeed, somewhat, but, as I 
was leaving, she said she had a terrible trouble on her 
mind, and added that if I should call this morning she 
would make a clean breast of it. No amount of per- 
suasion could induce her to make a confession last night. 
Partly out of Curiosity and partly because I thought you 
or your family might be connected with the matter, I 
called there this morning. I went before seven o’clock. 
It was well I did go early or the storm might have over- 
taken me there and hindered my return. The moment 
she saw me she fell upon her knees shouting: 

" ‘Hallelujah, I’m saved ! I have conquered my sin 
and I am saved!’ I said: ‘Lucinda, I have no time for 
foolishness. If you have any confession to make, make 
it at once. I am a busy man and I came out here, simply 
out of kindness for you this morning.’ She was very 
much overcome and at once expressed her thanks; then, 
rising to her feet she hobbled over to an old trunk, 
unlocked it and took out this package. I opened it and 
the first thing my eyes fell upon was a formal looking 
document and on it the words: ‘Marguerite Stokes.’ 
It was your sister’s marriage certificate. As you know 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


31 


too well, she married a young Italian, for which act 
Lucinda says your father disinherited her.” 

Arthur Stokes made no reply to what seemed to the 
doctor a very startling discovery, and wheeling his chair 
around so as to see his face, he realized he Jiad fainted. 

'‘Humph!” exclaimed the doctor, “the poor fellow's 
nerves are in a pretty bad shape I” He bathed the young 
man’s face, shook him gently. In a very few moments, 
Stokes was himself again and exclaimed at once: 

“How came Lucinda by this paper and the others 
you have in this bundle?” 

“She claims that she got them from an Italian boy, 
who says the lady mentioned therein is his mother.” 

“Impossible, doctor!” cried Arthur, excitedly. 

“Yet the boy had these papers, Stokes.” 

“They were stolen then, for some fraudulent purpose 
— some blackmailing scheme, no doubt — I’ll have the 
scamp arrested at once — ” 

“That would be the right thing to do,” assented the 
physician, “if they were stolen. But I do not believe 
they were; the boy, so Lucinda says, brought them to 
America, to assist him in proving who his mother was 
before marrying his father, in the event he could find 
his mother’s people.” 

“I cannot believe it, doctor; I feel absolutely certain 
that my sister has no son,” was Arthur’s emphatic reply. 

“About that, of course, I know nothing, Stokes,” said 
Dr. Flint, “I am repeating only what Lucinda told me.” 

“As soon as this wind goes down,” insisted Stokes, 
“I will run out to see Lucinda, and have a very serious 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


talk with her. If she is a party to this plot to secure 
money under false pretenses I will see to it that the law 
handles her relentlessly.” As he concluded, with a scowl 
on his usually pleasant face, he stretched his hand to 
take possession of the package. But the doctor drew it 
back, away from him, saying firmly: 

^‘It was the agreement that you were to have the 
papers only after giving me your solemn promise not 
to visit Lucinda to-day.” 

Unhesitatingly Arthur Stokes answered: 

‘T will not visit the negress to-day, doctor, I’ll pledge 
myself to that. I have other matters of vastly greater 
importance on hand to attend to, these next few hours.” 

Without any further comment, the papers were deliv- 
ered to Stokes, who continued: 

”I shall not wait until to-morrow morning, doctor, to 
put a most clever detective I have employed lately, upon 
the track of Lucinda’s protege; for this young Italian, 
evidently the originator of a fraudulent scheme, must 
be placed behind bars before he has been able id do 
any more mischief.” 

“Are you not a little hasty, Arthur,” the doctor asked. 
“You have not read the documents yet; they may be 
genuine!” 

“Of course, I will do that, doctor,” was the prompt 
answer, “but I guess I had better summon the detective 
at once,” and Stokes, stepping to the telephone called 
up the central police station. 

On account of the increasing roar of wind and rain, 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


33 


he had some difficulty in making the person who an- 
swered the chiefs telephone understand his request. 

‘T am Mr. Arthur Stokes!” he shouted for the fourth 
time. ‘Tlease ask the chief to send ‘Sleuth No. 1’ to my 
office at once. Do you hear?” 

“^Yes.” 

“Very well; remember, at once.” 

He resumed his seat and opened the marriage cer- 
tificate. His visitor eyed him closely, but said nothing. 

“This document looks genuine enough, doctor; still 
there are such clever forgeries perpetrated these days, 
that even experts are deceived.” 

Without answering this rather commonplace remark, 
the doctor arose, and gazing out of the window, ex- 
claimed : — 

“The old witch who rides on her broom through the 
air would have a hard time holding on to it in such a 
wind as this. Eh, Stokes?” 

Arthur was so absorbed examining the papers sent him 
by Lucinda that either he did not hear or did not heed 
the doctor’s remark. 

“It is a stiff gale from the northeast — more north than 
east, that’s blowing now, and the rain — just come and 
look at it, Stokes!” called the doctor in a loud voice. 

^tartled at the doctor’s anxious cry, Stokes sprang 
to his feet and walked to the window. As he looked at 
the cataract and turmoil without, he exclaimed; 

“You are right, doctor, this is a stiff gale, and the 
rain is coming down in torrents.” 

“I should judge,” the physician said, “that the wind 


34 WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 

is now blowing at about sixty miles an hour, and with 
increasing speed in store for us!” 

Arthur Stokes, an open^ letter in his hand, was staring 
absent-mindedly at the storm. The doctor lowered the 
window for the wind was blowing water into the room. 

Arthur asked : 

“You have no fear of your house getting the worst 
of it in this gale, Dr. Flint?” 

“My family are out of town, Mr. Stok^es, and so far 
as my house is concerned — well, if it has to go, let it 
go; that would be one of those strokes of fate over which 
we have no control. But, as a matter of fact, I do not 
think I need apprehend any trouble in that direction. 
My house is well built, and, heretofore, when wind and 
wave have been out on ‘larks,’ not a timber of it was 
shaken. No danger from that source, Mr. Stokes. Be- 
sides, I do not believe we are going to have any worse 
gale than the one that’s blowing just now.” 

At that moment, the private door of Arthur Stokes’ 
office, which opened into the hall, was thrown back 
and in stepped the detective. His appearance was so 
completely changed by his storm coat, cap and boots, 
that he was not recognized at first by the owner of the 
office. 

“What can I do for you?” politely inquired Arthur 
Stokes. 

“I am Sleuth No. 1,” replied the detective, “and at 
your service.” 

“To be sure,” replied Stokes, “now I remember your 



i'he Rescuers : “On to the strand J ’ ’ 






'-.J 

t 







r> ' •■>' 

! '«MV- •„ 















WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


37 


face and voice; I telephoned for you a few moments 
ago. This gentleman is my friend — Dr. Flint.” 

The two men shook hands cordially, at least Dr. Flint 
shook the detective’s hand^ cordially, but each noticed 
that he was being eyed suspiciously by the other. 

“If you have an errand for me to perform this after- 
noon you must make haste and tell me all about it, so 
I can be off, Mr. Stokes. This frolicsome wind is getting 
too gay even for a thief-catcher,” said the detective, with 
a short laugh. 

Arthur handed the detective a chair to his right, and 
motioned the physician to another seat by his side. Then 
moving his own chair nearer to the two men, so that his 
voice might be heard above the din of the storm, he said: 

“Well, sir, I have a hard job for you this time.” 

“Tell me all about it, Mr. Stokes, leaving out nothing; 
then I’ll put on my ‘specks’ and think,” replied the 
detective, a searching look in his steel-blue eyes. 

In as few words as possible Arthur Stokes repeated 
the message sent by Lucinda through Dr. Flint, and his 
strong opinion of the facts in the case. 

“You wish me to get this old negress into the hands 
of the law, before doing anything else, Mr. Stokes?” 
asked the detective. 

“I would hardly care to make so radical a move as 
this, to start with,” was Arthur’s somewhat more cau- 
tious reply. 

“You think, though, that the boy is an impostor, don’t 
you, Mr. Stokes?” 

“I am sure he is.” 


38 WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 

'Tn yoiir place, I would not be so absolutely sure, Mr. 
Stokes, for after all there is a possibility of the boy 
really believing: that he is what he claims to be.’’ 

“If my sister ever had a son,” insisted Stokes, “she 
would never have allowed him to roam about the world 
like a tramp or a begfg^ar.” 

“That may be true,” remarked the detective, who 
seemed hard to convince; “yet still she may have a 
son, who, withO'Ut her knowledg^e or consent, has taken 
upon himself, young though he seems to be, to start 
alone and unbidden on this fool’s errand,” and then he 
added:' 

“I suppose you want the lad’s whereabout discovered 
and the young fellow brought to the Central Station 
to give an account of himself ; is this your express desire, 
Mr. Stokes?” 

“That reminds me, Arthur,” interrupted Dr. Flint, 
before Stokes had time to reply to the detective’s ques- 
tion, “that I have nQt yet told you how Lucinda said 
she came to know the boy.” 

The detective leaned a little closer toward the doctor. 

Arthur Stokes’ face plainly showed his annoyance at 
the physician’s delay in giving him these important de- 
tails, as he answered: 

“Out with it then, doctor; I want my man to get after 
the little impostor before nightfall, and to do that, he 
needs all the information you may possess.” 

Without noticing his friend’s evident vexation, the 
doctor continued : 

“Lucinda said, that eight years ago to-day, a French 


W.HAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY* 20 

passenger steamer anchored in the bay. She was on the 
wharf to see it, and the stern of the sHip was turned 
toward her, when she noticed a small boy jump over-' 
board and quickly swim ashore. As he landed, a few 
steps from where she stood, she spoke kindly to him, 
but the boy seemed frightened- to death, and shivering 
in his dripping clothes, he ran of¥ and was soon hidden 
among The freight and the railroad cars. Lucinda 
thought no more of the little lad, so she was greatly 
surprised to see him at her door a few moments after 
her return. The child told her, in fairly good English 
but with a foreign accent, that he was afraid of the people 
he saw and asked her to protect him. He had suich 
nice manners and was such a little boy, even for the age 
of eleven, that she did n^t have the heart to turn him 
out. ‘He stayed with me,’ added Lucinda; ‘a week or 
more. He was as proud as Lucifer and as independent 
as a prince. He declared he had come to the United 
States to make his fortune, and it was amusing to see 
his little face brighten up whenever he spoke of the bril- 
liant future in store for him.’ He soon found employ- 
ment, and out of his small wages scraped enough to pay 
Lucinda for his week’s board. He left her, however, 
and Lucinda did not see the child often during the winter 
which followed. But in the spring he was taken very 
ill and sent for her. The hospital doctors told the old 
woman there was no hopes for the little fellow and if 
she knew his folks, they had better be notified. 

“Adolfo — it was the name given by the lad as his own 
— was very weak at the time and would very seldom 


46 


WHAT bR. FLINT HAD TO SaV 


talk, but Lucinda gradually secured the child’s secret. 
As soon as she learned that the little fellow claimed to 
be the son of Marguerite Stokes, her own former mis- 
tress’ young daughter who had so grievously offended 
her family by marrying an Italian — ” 

“She not only offended us,” cried Arthur Stokes, ex- 
citedly, “but she disgraced us all by marrying a wretched 
Italian actor, a worthless character and with no family 
distinction!” 

The young man was so agitated by the doctor’s recital 
that he walked the floor back and forth; at the same 
time wiping the moisture from his eyes. It was easy 
to see that he had loved his wayward sister tenderly. 

The detective looked on with little apparent concern, 
and the doctor continued: , 

“When Lucinda learned who the boy claimed to be, 
she vowed he should live, and to her faithful nursing 
the doctors say he owes his life.” 

“And after that, what became of the boy?” enquired 
the detective, evidently desirous of getting to the end 
of the story. 

“As soon as he was well enough, Lucinda said, he 
went to work again. His idea was to save the money 
necessary for a trip to Maryland to look up his mother’s 
people. All this time he never mentioned, even to 
Lucinda, the fact that he had papers to prove his state- 
ments. When the Cuban war broke out and volunteers 
were called for, this young Italian, probably about sixteen 
years old by that time managed somehow to enlist with 
Hunt McCaleb, lieutenant-colonel of the first United 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


41 


States Immunes. The illness he had suffered from as a 
child had been a mild form of yellow fever. When the 
regiment was ordered across the water he made a con- 
fidant of Lucinda and left the precious- papers in her 
charge. Realizing their great value to the boy, should 
he ever return from the war and continue his search for 
his mother’s people, the old negress put them in the 
safety vault in Sealy’s bank, where they remained nearly 
two years.” 

“You tell the tale so smoothly, doctor, we can almost 
imagine that we are listening to the reading of a thrilling 
tale from the pages of some popular romance,” said the 
detective, smiling and rising to go. 

“Is that the end of the boy, doctor? Was he killed 
in the war?” asked Arthur Stokes. 

“I have almost reached the close of Lucinda’s story 
about the lad, Mr. Stokes. No, he was not killed, and 
he is now in Galveston. Your man here is so anxious 
to get on his trail, that I will come to the final point 
at once. Lucinda says the boy came to see her, after the 
close of the Spanish-American war, and asked her about 
the safety of his papers. When assured that they were 
still in the Sealy bank he said: ‘Lucinda, when I save 
enough money to take me to Maryland I shall come and 
have you get the papers from the bank.’ ” 

“Did he ever make the trip?” asked the detective. 

“About six months afterwards, he called for the papers, 
and told Lucinda he was going to leave that night for 
his mother’s native state. He had on new clothes, his 


42 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


face was bright and happy, and he showed the old negress 
one hundred dollars in his pocket-book.” 

“No doubt he stole it, the impostor!” exclaimed Arthur 
Stokes, hotly. 

“Ljthink not,” replied the doctor, “I know the boy 
personally and Col. McCaleb tells me that for veracity, 
honesty and industry the lad has few equals.” 

“Ah, you know the boy then, doctor, and you are 
pleading his cause,” Stokes interrupted, with some show 
of irritation. 

“I am only repeating what Lucinda said, except the 
last statement, which I personally offer in defense of 
the young fellow,” was Dr. Flint’s calm rejoinder. 

“To be sure, doctor, to be sure,” interposed the de- 
tective, “anyway let us hear the end of this interesting 
narrative. Did the lad find his people and remain in 
Maryland, or ” But Stokes interrupted him: 

“He certainly did not find the people he claims as 
his own folks, in Maryland. My mother, now eight 
years a widow, returned to her native state of New -York, 
at the close of the rebellion. There I was born in 1866, 
and there my people have always remained.” 

“Except yourself, my friend,” said Dr. Flint, with a 
smile. 

“You are correct, doctor. Except myself and poor 
Marguerite,” added Arthur Stokes. 

“I declare!” exclaimed the detective, “it is difficult to 
get 3^ou two men to stick to the text. Where did the 
boy go from Virginia ?” 

“Maryland,” corrected the doctor. 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


43 


“From Maryland,” repeated the detective. “And 
where is he now? Stick to the text, g^entlemen, stick 
to the text.” 

“Adolfo’s search in Maryland was fruitless,” resumed 
the doctor. “Over there, away from the people who had 
interested themselves to him in this part of the country, 
he could not secure any employrn'ent and his money soon 
dwindled away. Disappointed and homesick he found 
his way back to his friends here in Galveston and is now 
at the home of Colonel McCaleb.” 

“If that is the case, I do not see that my services are 
needed,” said the detective, rising. 

“To be sure they are needed,” exclaimed Stokes. “First 
of all, interview this boy; ascertain from him everything 
possible; secure his mother’s address, go to Italy, in a 
word, prove his story a lie or the truth ; and the quicker 
you do it the -sooner my mind will be at rest. Can I 
retain your services until this matter^ is concluded?” 

“You can, sir, I am at your command from this mo- 
ment on,” was the prompt reply' of the detective. 

Arthur Stokes handed him, at once, a check for two 
hundred dollars for preliminary expenses, and added: 

“I leave this matter in your hands.” 

“The boy’s full name? I have not heard it yet, Mr. 
Stokes?” asked the detective. 

. The look of pain on Arthur Stokes’ face was pitiful 
to see as he turned to the doctor and said: “Tell him, 
Dr. Flint, I cannot speak the name.” 

“Adolfo Biondi, aTe the boy’s name and surname,” 
replied the doctor. 


44 


WHAT DR. FLINT HAD TO SAY 


The detective wrote those down and bo-wed himself out. 

Notwithstanding- the wind and the rain, the two 
friends, undaunted by the continuance and increase of 
the storm, soon descended to the street and walked on 
to the Tremont Hotel. 


CHAPTER III 


BOB 

Bob sat by the side of the driver on the high seat of 
the big moving wagon, and his heart grew faint as he 
saw the horses ploughing up to their knees through 
water that splashed into his and the driver’s faces, as the 
horses hurried on, evidently very badly frightened. 

Every moment seemed to Bob^an hour, in his eager- 
ness to get home to his mother, and carry her, his little 
sisters and their belongings to a place of safety. 

Bob’s mother and her two small girls were the lad’s 
especial charges. His father had been dead six years 
and he was now almost thirteen years old, being the 
oldest of the three children. 

Before the wagon and its occupants reached Avenue 
M and 11th Street, the driver had been hailed a dozen 
or more times by frantic people who stood in water up 
to their knees in front of their houses, hoping to secure 
some conveyance to carry them and their belongings 
to higher grounds and more secure buildings. 

To all their entreaties the driver shook his head and 
lashed his horses on. 

Bob was sorry for the people, but rejoiced in his own 
heart for having been able tO' secure this wagon, thanks 
to his employer’s generosity, on the day preceding. 

When they stopped in front of his little cottage, his 

( 45 ) 


BOB 


mother and sisters, with their arms full of bundles of 
clothing, bedding and food, rushed out with a happy cry. 

“We are saved,” cried the mother, “dear, precious 
Bob, what would have become of us without you.” 

“Hurry up, woman,” interrupted the driver, rather 
gruffly, “other people are wanting this dray.” 

“Won’t you help us carry the things out,” cried 
Bob, as he put his two little sisters on the wagon. 

Several neighbors thought Bob very foolish to go to 
such an expense and frighten his mother and sisters so 
by moving them from the house, simply on account of 
a somewhat heavy storm. 

“The Joneses are not g'oing to leave their house,” cried 
one. 

“See, the Smiths are laughing at your fright,” cried 
another. 

“Well, my boy,” said old man Williams, wading 
through water up to his knees toward the wagon, “I 
really thought you had some sort of horse-sense. Can’t 
you see the wind is from the north and we have 
nothing to fear from the waters of the Gulf? If your 
folks are afraid let the man take them to the City Hall 
or somewhere, and you go with me to see the harmless 
pranks the gulf is playing. Be a man, Bob, be a man!” 

“That is what I am trying to be,” cried the lad, making 
an effort to be heard above the din of the wind and water. 

“All ready!” cried the driver, “which way?” 

“To the Court-House,” shouted Bob, obeying the old 
man’s suggestion, and he took his seat by the side of 
the driver. They had scarcely advanced two blocks on 


BOB 


47 


their way to the court house when they were stopped by 
five women carrying babies or leading young children 
through water up to their necks. Tliey begged in pitiful 
accents to be taken on the wagon to a place of safety. 

Bob looked appealingl3^ to the driver, who answered 
his mental question by saying: 

You hired the wagon, boy, but not to carry every- 
one in town. Anyway, it’s a foolish panic; the water is 
done goin’ down now.” 

''Just the same,” cried Bob, " we’ll have to stop and 
take these women and little children aboard. Here is 
the other five dollar? my boss gave me. Take it, Mr. 
Driver, and stop the wagon, we’ll gather in all it will 
'hold.” 

The driver stuffed the bill in an inside pocket, at the 
same time bringing the horses to a stop. 

Bob was down in the water in an instant, and per- 
sonally helped fifteen people into the vehicle. 

On they drove again toward the court house, through 
the rising water and against a stiff northeast wind. 

Bob’s mother had thoughtfully put all her provisions 
in a big zinc tub and carefully covered it up with' oil- 
cloth; at the same time she had filled several large jugs 
with fresh water, and these she and the little girls held 
tightly; for they realized the value of fresh water, should 
the storm continue for several hours. 

At last, after encountering many difficulties, the horses 
drew the heavy laden wagon through the deep water to 
the entrance of the Court-House. 

All hands helped in the unloading; and soon the big 


48 


BOB 


dray was empty. The human beings it contained were 
under shelter, but were their lives safe even in that stout 
building of stone and mortar? It was beyond the power 
of mortal man to answer that question. 

Of one thing they felt confident, they were safer there 
than in their own frail frame houses, and if the storm 
did not increase in fury beyond every precedent, there 
was no actual danger of the substantial edifice collapsing 
over their heads. 

The driver seemed to feel a little remorse of conscience 
at having taken all of little Bob’s money, and when his 
wagon was once more empty he said: 

“Boy, if you have any kinfolks near by that you want 
hauled in, I’ll go for them now. I think the storm is 
about over, but if you want me to go say so quick.” 

‘T have no more money,” said Bob, with a half sup- 
pressed sigh of regret. 

“I’ll bring one more load for what you have already 
paid me,” replied the honest fellow, “only hurry up. 
Which way are we driving, boy?” 

“Wait one moment,” cried the overjoyed Bob, “I must 
tell mother,” and before the driver could protest Bob 
had run into the Court-House to tell his mother that 
he was going for more people. 

She tried to keep him from this rash venture, but the 
lad raised his eyes to heaven and said: 

“Mother, God above is watching me. If I do not go 
and bring people into a place of safety, He will know I 
am a coward and punish me.” 

^^Go!” cried the mother, big tears filling her eyes. 


Go, child, and may the good Lord protect 3'ou and 
return you safely to my arms.” 

Without further good-bye except a kiss and a squeeze, 
Bob rushed out of the building and jumped into the 
wagon, shouting: “Northeast, to the beach! Let her 
go, Gallagher!” 

Never was there a boy so frantic with delight in being 
able to bring some more of his friends to a safer place, 
provided they wanted to leave their homes. 

The rain which had begun about 9:15 A. M. and 
slacked up a few minutes afterward, now came down in 
torrents. Those who were abandoning their dwellings 
along the beach and the bay in hopes of finding a place 
of safety and shelter until the storm had spent its fpry, 
seemed not to mind the rain or the strong salt water 
through which they waded up to their knees. 

Bob’s wagon and its occupants soon neared the north- 
east part of the island, which, close to the beach, was 
mainly inhabited by daily wage earners who could only 
afford to pay very low rents, or to buy a small lot on 
the water’s edge where no one with larger .means cared 
to live, and build cheap frame houses. 

Bob was terribly frightened by the raging billows, 
although the driver assured him that there was no possi- 
ble danger from the waters of the Gulf with so stiff a 
gale from the northeast. 

Still the Gulf waves came flowing in slowly but surely. 
The sobbing of the billows as they rolled, one over the 
other, on the beautiful beach, and the sighing of the wind 
which met them in close embrace, then threw them back 


50 


BOB 


into the Gulf as if to foil their murderous intentions — all 
this solemn and menacing turmoil sent a chill of terror 
to the child’s brave heart. 

“Why doesn’t everybody living out here leave their 
homes at once and rush into the city, or at least farther 
away from the Gulf and on higher grounds?” asked 
Bob. The driver answered, unmoved: 

“Because they know there is very little danger from 
the storm, and none whatever from the Gulf. In an 
hour all you silly people will want to be carried back 
to your homes and you will be the laughing stock of the 
whole neighborhood. Besides, you will not have any 
money left to pay for having your traps hauled back. 
I will tell you right now, young man, I am not going 
to stop in this rain to pack household stuff into this 
wagon. If the people want to leave home, well and 
good, we’ll take them aboard, but I don’t like this rain 
well enough to stop for such foolishness as moving furni- 
ture.” 

“Here is the house we are driving to!” cried Bob. 
“To the rigiht. Do you really think the storm will be 
over in an hour?” 

“In less timejhan that,” said the driver, as he lashed 
his horses and turned to the right. 

“Will it be no later than noon?” asked the persistent 
Bob. 

“Yes, about that time, everything will be quiet again; 
it is now eleven,” said the driver as he reined up in front 
of the building Bob had pointed out to him. 

“Hurry, boy, I want to get back to the stable to feed 


BOB 


61 


F 


my team, and it will be quite a job to get there by noon 
in this rain and wind.” 

In a moment Bob was off the wagon, and as he ran 
through the water to the house he cried: “Bring all the 
food you have and come on, everybody!” 

Perhaps thirty women, children and old men answered 
Bob's cheery voice with a hurrah of relief, and had soon 
climbed into ^he big wagon. 

“They are new-comers to Galveston,” said a man 
with rubber boots and a long storm coat on, wending 
his way to the Gulf to see the raging billows. “They 
do not know that they are going to miss seeing the 
grandest sight the eyes of man ever had a chance to 
feast upon: the great Gulf of Mexico out on a holiday 
with the wind.” v 

Bob saw the man hurrying by and called out to him: 

“If you have any folks out here we will haul them ini” 

The man was near enough to touch the wagon, as he 
replied with a: ■ “Thank you, I have no family here. 
I am going to have a treat — a plunge into that beautiful 
mountain of tossing surf!” 

With bewilderment in their faces, the occupants of the 
big wagon looked at the speaker, as, with a wave of the 
hand, he walked on, sturdy and delighted, toward the 
beach whose splendid tragedy caused him to forget all 
prudence. The driver, shrugging his shoulders care- 
lessly, as if he did not care one way or the other, turned 
his horses toward the city for the return trip to the 
Court-House. 

The town clock in the dome of the big building pointed 


52 


BOB 


silently to the hour of twelve, as Bob jumped out of the 
wagon and helped to carry the children of the refugees 
and their bundles into the improvised shelter. 

No one complained of his or her water-soaked condi- 
tion; they were only too delighted to find themselves 
under a roof which they believed could stand a much 
more raging tempest than they were suffering from just 
then. 

Many of the refugees expressed the belief that the 
storm would reach its height shortly after noon; others, 
who were storm students, shook their heads and men- 
tally decided that they would leave the deluded crea- 
tures in their ignorance of the fact that the wind had not 
reached its height by several hours’ run; if it were to vere 
to the south then all they could say was: “God help 
Galveston.” 

The people were used to storms and high water every 
year, but it was only in the lowest places the water ever 
came into the houses, and then only in such houses as 
were not set up on blocks. 

Bob’s mother and sisters were ^erjoyed to see him 
safely back, but he was not to be detained long, even 
by the warm expressions of gratitude of the women and 
children he had got out of reach of probable danger. 

He had promised his employer to let him know when 
his folks should have been moved to a place of safety; 
so, as soon as he had eaten heartily of the lunch his 
mother had fixed for him from her big tub of eatables, 
he started to Arthur Stokes’, promising to be back as 
soon as he was not needed there. 


/ CHAPTER IV 


NO FEAR OF A STORM 

Scores of people from the streets, including old Gal- 
veston residents, sightseers and commercial travelers 
thronged the rotunda of the Tremont hotel to wait, out 
of the wind and rain, until the blow was over. 

If there was any apprehension in the mind of anyone 
present that the city was soon to be in the toils of a 
most terrible cyclone, there were no outward manifesta- 
tions of the fact. 

A dozen or more men sat, perfectly unconcerned, at 
the long writing tables, writing letter after letter; some 
indited business communications to the firms they repre- 
sented, others were sending news to wives and friends ' 
in far distant homes, and still others wrote to sweet- 
hearts, whom each hoped soon to call wife — and yet not 
one of these letters so much as mentioned the wind 
blowing in fearful gusts, or the rain coming down in 
great torrents; much less did they speak of any fears 
being entertained of the complete inundation of the city 
and of the swooping down of a cyclone at the very same 
moment. 

Other temporary inmates of the Tremont sat with their 
chairs tilted back and read papers or magazines; others 
collected in groups and discussed politics; while still 

(53) 


54 


NO FEAR OF A STOR-M 


others told stories and laug^hed heartily at their own 
jokes. 

Some old Galvestonians, however, would stand looking 
out through the front glass doors; and, as they watched 
the wind dash the water against the stout panes, they 
fell for a moment into a thoughtful mood, from which 
they soon emerged full of reminiscences. 

"This is a babe,” said an elderly gentleman, one of 
a crowd of six standing close together, "to the storm we 
had on October 3rd, 1867. On that day at least two 
thirds of the city were submerged, and more than half a 
million dollars worth of property damaged. Another 
storm,” continued the old man, flattered by the attention 
he was receiving, "more terrible than the one of 1867. 
happened in 1875. It lasted for three days. The streets 
were entirely flooded. Considerable damage was done to 
property and hundreds of lives were lost. Our railroad 
bridges were swept away, thus breaking our connections 
with the main land. Old pirate Lafitte told of a storm 
that visited Galveston when the city was hrs head- 
quarters, at the time he was carrying on his nefarious 
raids upon the high seas; but as no oflicial account of 
it was preserved, we have nio way of knowing its real 
extent.” 

"What was the highest velocity of the wind during 
the storm of ’75?” enquired one of the listeners. 

"As near as I recall,” answered the old man, "it blew 
sixty-five miles an hour.” 

"If I am not a bad guesser,” remarked a smart young 
fellow who had heard the conversation, "we are now 


NO FEAR OF A STORM 


55 


beating sixty-five miles by at least ten, and the storm 
is not going to let up either.” 

“This same storm,” continued the first speaker, “de- 
stroyed Indianola. At that point the velocity reached 
ninety miles an hour.” 

“Was there not another storm earlier than the two 
you have mentioned.’ About 1857?” asked a man who 
had just joined the group standing by the glass doors. 

“I believe you are right,” replied the first speaker; 
“ah, I remember, now; it was the storm which wiped Last 
Island of¥ the continent. At that time several hundred 
lives were lost. Only a few were saved.” 

“And I was one of them,” exclaimed an old man, who 
had been an attentive but silent listener up to this point. 

All eyes were immediately turned upon him with looks 
of interested surprise. 

The last speaker became nervously diffident under the 
questioning gaze of so many men, and instead of be- 
ginning a detailed account of his danger and rescue in 
1857, he put his hands deep down in his pockets and 
sauntered over to the cigar stand, without vouchsafing 
any further information. 

Two men, arm in arm, walked slowly down the broad 
stairs leading from the parlor and dining room floor of 
the hotel to the rotunda and office below. They had 
evidently just come from the dining room and between 
the puffs of their cigars they were proceeding with an 
earnest conversation. 

No seats being vacant in the main halls and lobbies, 
they walked slowly to The billiard room. Here they 


56 


NO FEAR OF A STORM 


spied two unoccupied chairs at the far end of the rootti 
and were soon comfortably seated. . 

“I tell yoU;, George, I was getting very anxious about 
you just as you came in to dinner. I don’t believe I 
would have been able to swallow a mouthful had you 
not appeared in the room the moment you did,” ex- 
claimed Arthur Stokes, as he laid his hand affectionately 
on the arm of his friend. 

“I am sorry I caused you any uneasiness, Arthur,” 
was the cordial reply. “The truth of it is, I had an un- 
canny desire to see that old witch Lucinda again, and, 
by Jove, I did go out there again this morning at nine 
o’clock, and if you believe me the water was right on 
to her then. Yet she doggedly refused to budge, and 
just as stubbornly declined to take back her prophecy 
of yesterday. She still declares, with a dreadful degree 
of apparent certainty, that I am to lose my life in this 
storm, which she says will not reach its worst until nine 
o’clock to-night.” 

“She is a terrible old croaker, George, I tell you,” 
interrupted Arthur, “happily she is no more to be be- 
lieved than any other crazy beldame in an insane asylum. 
But what on earth possessed you to return there?” 

“Of course it was foolish to go back,” admitted the 
younger man, “but, foolish or not, I was positively 
worried by her prophecy, and I actually* offered to pay 
her if she would retract what she said yesterday in 
your presence. But she would not take back anything, 
and went on repeating: T could take your money and 
tell a lie, but what good is money to me now, and the 


NO FEAR OF A STORM 


57 


lie would be written against my soul. No, Mr. George, 
no — ^what has to be, has to be— We shall both perish 
in this very storm.’ As the water was coming up higher 
and higher, first on the stoop, then inside the house, we 
climbed on a table with our feet on chairs. Sitting thus, 
for about an hour, she told me of her having had a dream 
about thousands of men, women and children being 
drowned on this very Island hundreds of years ago. She 
said, after waking she had remembered this strange dream 
and had persuaded men to go down to Clear Creek, in 
Galveston County, and to excavate in certain places she 
pointed out, affirming that the bodie’s of an ancient race 
which had been swept off the earth by a big tidal wave 
or cyclone would be found, buried in stacks, one row 
above the other. She declared to me that, as a result 
of these searches, skeletons of entire families were found, 
with strings of ivory beads around the necks of many of 
the people. She claims that some time after this dis- 
covery — due to her dream — had taken place, a railroad 
man, with whom her grandson was working, began mak- 
ing excavations on Clear Creek for an Arizona and New 
Mexico railroad. When her grandson told him of his 
grandmother’s dream and what himself and three other 
men who searched for what she dreamed found, the 
superintendent told him to lead the way and point out 
the place where he and his companions had found the 
skeletons, and if they unearthed any more, he should 
have a new suit for his trouble. They not only found 
an innumerable number of dead, but in the dirt sur- 


68 


NO FEAR OF A STORM 


rounding them lay hundreds of objects of human handi- 
work.” 

“I know those skeletons have been found,” remarked 
Arthur Stokes; ''and I heard the railroad superintendent 
tell much the same story as to the manner by which 
he had come to that queer, uncanny discovery.” 

"By Jove!”- exclaimed George Boyessen, "I was in 
hopes the old witch had lied to me from beginning to 
end, and I was only relating the story to you so that 
you might have it thoroughly investigated. Now I feel 
that if she spoke the truth in this case, she must have 
foreseen my fate as well. Arthur, old man, my doom 
is sealed, never shall I see the sun rise again!” 

"I could choke that old croaker to death this moment 
if I only had her within reach,” cried Arthur Stokes 
excitedly; "in the meantime, take my word for it, George, 
it is all a pitiful hoax. But I, for one, do not intend 
to let you out of my sight until your spirit throws off 
this black delusion, and right in this hotel we shall stay 
until the glorious sun shines forth in the morning. Then 
the evil hour will be past and your morbid fancies will 
have no more reason to torment you. As for old 
Lucinda she is welcome to a watery grave, if she refuses 
to escape it. Her wild talk is too dangerous to be 
allowed free scope. Fll attend to her in the morning. 
For, of course, she will be as healthy and alive as you, 
old friend,” and with a loud laugh and a hearty slap on 
the shoulder, Arthur intimated that they bad better talk 
of something else. 



A faithful clog keeping watch over the body of a child. 








i 




JL ' ^ 


1 


• t 









■/f 






. < 




4 



« 




\ , 

I 


t 







NO FEAR OF A STORM 61 

But George Boyessen was not to be shaken off so 
easily. 

“I made my will/’ he said, “just before I came in, 
Arthur, and I put it into my private box at Sealey’s. If 
anything happens ” 

“Great Scott! man,” exclaimed Arthur, with a show of 
impatience, “you have not taken the matter so seriously, 
have you? Why that is a step too far!” 

“No, I have simply taken a precaution I have been 
neglecting too long, and if I should be saved by some 
miracle, and care to change my will, I can do so, can’t I? 
I have no parents or immediate relatives, and my per- 
sonal effects and the few thousands I have saved will 
go to — ^to — ” 

George Boyessen cleared his throat several times ner- 
vously. Arthur Stokes said: 

“Never mind speaking the name, George, I know to 
whom you have willed your little all, and if you leave 
this world at any time before I do, depend upon it, old 
boy, I will see that ‘she’ does not want for anything.” 

The two men arose and George Boyessen clasped his 
friend’s hand in his, whispering in his ear: “God will 
bless you, old boy. You have been my friend and will 
remain so through eternity.” 

At that very minute, they heard a fearful crash out- 
side, and every one, with a startled look on his face ran 
to the nearest window. 

The huge smokestack belonging to the holtel had 
blown over, and as it fell several of the small frame out- 
buildings in the yard had been crushed to pieces. It 


02 


NO FEAR OF A STORM 


did look, indeed, as if the storm was to reach most 
alarming proportions. 

As the friends walked away from the window, Arthur 
Stokes looked at his watch, and remarked: 

“It is one-thirty, George, and I believe the wind has 
about spent itself.” 

There was no hopefulness on George Boyessen’s face 
as he replied: 

“You are mistaken, Arthur, the worst will not be on 
us until nine o’clock to-night.” 

Arthur Stokes was good-naturedly shrugging his 
shoulders at this repetition of Lucinda’s prophecy, when 
Dr. Flint rushed into the room, and in a cheery tone 
called out: 

“Here, young men, I have been having a lively chase 
after you! Why, what is the matter with the two bosom 
friends? You actually look as if you had been to your 
own funerals.” 


CHAPTER V 

NO ART OF PERSUASION 

Dr. Flint’s pleasant -face did somewhat revive the 
drooping spirits of the two young fellows, and with an 
attempt at a smile Arthur Stokes replied: 

“Hardly as gloomy as that, doctor, but the truth is, we 
have just had some kind of a shock. The smoke stack 
came crashing down and demolished in a jiffy some of 
the small frame buildings at the back of the hotel.” 

“Yes, I saw it,” said the doctor, eyeing the friends 
closely. “But there is something besides' this gust of 
wind and splash of water bothering you two young 
men.” 

George Boyessen clasped his hands tightly back of 
him and walked the floor nervously. 

“Mr. Stokes, George here is ill,” continued the physi- 
cian, “I wish he would let me give him something to 
quiet his nerves. First of all, Arthur, try and persuade 
him to go up to his room. Anyway, if the water con- 
tinues to rise we’ll all have to go upstairs or swim 
around down here like ducks.” 

“Surely, doctor, you don’t mean what you say?” cried 
Stokes. “Can the water get so high at this point in the 
city? If it does, it is but too certain that Lucinda’s 
prophecy is being fulfilled!” and Arthur Stokes, sinking 
down in his chair, covered his face with his hands, mur- 
muring: “Poor George, poor George!” 

< 63 ) 


64 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


At these words, Boyessen rushed to his friend’s side 
and said, with infinite affection in his voice: 

“Arthur, Arthur, don’t mind me. Think of those 
whom you love. Your mother, your sister, all whom 
you love who Avill live! Think of Mary, Arthur. If 
she has been true to you, think of the heavenly joys still 
in store for you!” 

“It is noble of you to speak so unselfishly, George, but 
you know that if harm befalls you before another sun 
rises, I shall never forgive myself for taking you to see 
this arch-fiend, Lucinda.” 

The doctor stepped closer to the two young men and 
said affectionately: 

“I now understand the cause of your serious looks and 
nervous state. I am old enough to be the father of 
either of you and have probably had more experiences 
than both with Nineteenth-Century prophets, and the 
storms which frequent this part. In an hour, at the 
latest, the frolic will be over, and I am sure there will 
not be ten thousand dollars worth of damage done, and 
not a life lost!” 

“Hear that, George,” Stokes exclaimed, laughing 
heartily. “The goblins have had us, sure, for the last 
half hour; but Dr. Flint has taken us out of their grasp 
with his cool, sensible talk.” 

George Boyessen attempted to smile, as he replied: 

“The doctor may be correct, Arthur; still I am con- 
vinced that he has not proved the inward mystery of this 
matter. However, gentlemen, do not, please, let my 
gloomy forebodings annoy you,” 


NO ART OF persuasion 


66 


The look which Arthur Stokes ^ave Dr. Flint was full 
of anxious concern. Replying to this mute appeal, the 
physician said: 

“Well, our friend is a little rattled, that’s all; I had 
better prescribe something for his nerves, don’t you think 
so?” 

“Look here, doctor, I have just what he needs,” ex- 
claimed Arthur, and pulling out a little pill-box from 
his vest-pocket he helped himself to a small white tablet, 
saying at the same time: 

“Have one, doctor, and you also, George. Tliey are 
the finest things I know of for the stomach and they 
cannot be beat as a tonic. Take a couple, George,” 
urged Arthur, as his friend mechanically put one of the 
tablets into his mouth. 

The younger man helped himself to another in the 
same absent-minded manner, while his friend remarked: 

“I wonder what progress my detective has made since 
he left my office?” 

“You certainly do not expect even a thief-catcher to 
go out on a trail in this rain, do you?” asked the doctor. 

“The fact is, doctor,” was the quick reply, “I am not 
expecting anything of anybody except the unexpected. 
Ever since I had a call from Aunt Lucinda, Thursday 
afternoon, events I never dreamed could happen have 
taken place in rapid succession one after the other. First, 
there was Mary! Ah, I forgot you do not know about 
her. She is a dear friend I had not met in eight years. 
Then the visit to Lucinda and her ” 


66 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


Dr. Flint put his finger to his lips to suggest silence 
on that point. 

'‘Ha, ha,” laughed George Boyessen, to their great 
surprise and delight; “do not hesitate to speak of the 
old hag on my account, Arthur, I have made a fool of 
myself long enough. Now, I shall defy her — and live! 
How glorious is the sound of the word ‘live.’ I feel the 
blood fairly tingling through my veins. It is life, Arthur, 
life!” 

The doctor took his hand, pressed it cordially and 
said: 

“Youth, good health, sound judgment, and a philo- 
sophical turn of mind have brought you to your senses 
again. No art of persuasion used by Mr. Stokes or 
myself could have made you adopt this sensible view of 
the subject.” 

“Don’t let us speak further of it, then,” was the reply. 

'^‘About the detective,” said the doctor, returning to 
the topic they had just been broaching. “I trust he has 
taken himself to his office, and has concluded to meditate 
over the matter until this gust has blown over.” 

“Doctor, no sleuth worthy of the name ever stopped 
work, for a rainy day and a gust like this,” replied 
Arthur. 

“Why, Stokes, I thought the detective had promised 
to let you know about Mary before dark yesterday,” 
questioned George Boyessen, with pretended interest, 
as if to induce his friends to think him cured of his 
gloomy forebodings. 

“Poor fellow!” thought the physician, whose expe- 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


C7 


rienced eye had noticed the effort in BoyesseiTs manner, 
‘That miserable old witch’s prophecy is doing this man a 
world of harm. If only we could get him to bed and 
some more neiwe medicine poured down his throat, until 
this storm be over!” 

Aloud he said: “Don’t you know, George, that 
Arthur’s detective went in search of the boy Biondi — 
Adolfo Biondi, Mr. Stokes’ sister’s son!” 

“My sister’s son !” protested Arthur, indignantly. “No, 
no, I will never believe such a being exists until I hear 
it from poor Marguerite’s own lips.” 

“What do yo'U mean, Arthur?” asked the surprised 
Boyessen. 

“The whole thing is a lie!” continued Stokes, with 
rising anger. “The fellow is a cheap impostor! I know 
it, I’ll swear to it, George. My poor sister has no son, 
thank God !” 

“What’s all this excitement about, doctor; won’t you 
tell'me,” was George Boyessen’s rather bewildered query. 

“I declare, I give it up!” exclaimed the doctor. “I 
do not know what subject to talk about with two half 
lunatics. Politics and religion are out of place when a 
storm like this is raging, and, by jimini, if I mention any- 
thing else of mutual interest, first one then the other 
flies off the track like mad.” 

This repartee brought something like a smile on the 
lips of the two anxious friends; and then Dr. Flint 
related briefly to George what the latter did not know 
about the existence and the claims of the boy Adolfo 
Biondi. 


68 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


During the narration of this story which was so un- 
pleasant to Arthur Stokes, he left the two men and 
walked intO' the hotel rotunda. The place was literally 
packed with people seeking shelter from the storm. 

He pushed his way through the crowd to the Tremont 
street entrance, and was amazed to see the water up 
a foot or more in the street in front, and the wind on 
the rise. 

“It is bad luck I am in, to-day, sure,” he thought. 
“I wish I had left in quest of Mary before my talkative 
friend, the doctor, reached my office this morning. I 

wonder where Number East Broadway can be? Is 

it anywhere near the beach?” then, struck by a new 
terror, “Great God! I wonder if Mary is in safety! Will 
this day never end? And are new tortures to spring 
up every moment?” 

Just then, a barefooted, water-soaked boy entered the 
room by another door, and, somehow managed to push 
his way through the crowd: 

“I want Mr. Stokes!” he shouted at the top of his 
voice, “Mr. Arthur Stokes!” 

Many of the persons present knew Mr. Stokes by sight 
and called out to the boy: “There he stands at the 
Tremont street entrance.” 

Arthur turned round to see what was wanted and 
noticed his office boy's struggle to reach him through 
the closely packed crowd. 

“Hello, Bob, is it you?” he called out, cordially. “Did 
you get your folks moved in all right?” 

“I did, sir,” was the cheery answer, “and they are 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


inside the Court-House since eleven o’clock. I came 
to report to you, as I promised.” 

“I am sorry, Bob, you came out in this pouring rain 
to tell me about it. There was no hurry. Now run back 
to your mother, or she will be worried. You are too 
small a boy to be out in the streets in a storm like this.” 

'T wouldn’t mind, if I only could get the folks in from 
the beach. Half of them won’t come, sir, even though 
the water is in their houses. I forgot to tell you, there 
is a fellow in your office to see you. I have just been 
there. He said he would wait until you came.” 

‘That’s the detective,” thought Arthur; then aloud, 
“he will stay there all day waiting for me.” 

“Shall I go over and tell him?” asked the obliging Bob. 

“No, lad, you just run home to your mother. By the 
way, what name did the m.an give?” 

“He isn’t a man, Mr. Stokes,” cried Bob; “just a boy, 
five, six years older than me — and he said, in a queer, 
foreign accent: ‘I am Adolfo Biondi. Mr. Stokes knows 
who I am.’ ” 

Arthur Stokes started back, so surprised was he at 
the bit of news. Then he exclaimed wrathfully: 

“What! That impostor in my office? I will send 
over an officer to put him under arrest! Find a police- 
man for me. Bob; do you hear, one who will put that 
fellow in jail within five minutes.” 

“Oh, please don’t, Mr. Stokes, please don’t,” cried the 
excited Bob, “I know Adolfo, he does not steal or 
lie — and — and he kept me from drowning once. Please^ 
sir, don’t send him to jail.” 


70 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


‘That may all be true, boy, about his saving your life 
and all that; but you do not understand. The boy is 
an impostor!” And raising his voice, he repeated, “Get 
me an officer!” 

“What is all this about, Mr. Stokes?” asked a voice 
behind Arthur. “Has this ragamuffin stolen anything?” 
It was the hotel clerk, who grabbed Bob by the collar, 
shook him vigorously and continued: “I will hand him 
over to a policeman if you say so. There are two of 
them in this room.” 

“No, no/’ protested Arthur Stokes, “Bob is all right; 
he is my office boy.” 

With something of a scowl the clerk turned Bob loose. 
In his fright the boy seized Mr. Stokes’ hand. 

“I am sorry you are so much upset. Bob. That horri- 
ble little impostor has caused it all. I will never 
rest until he is behind the bars.” 

“Oh, please sir, don’t arrest him to-night, sir; the storm 
is bad enough for a boy what has done nothin’, without 
his going to jail.” 

Remorse smote Arthur Stokes’ conscience. The 
earnest appeal of the boy in favor of his rescuer touched 
the better side of the young man’s nature; so he relented, 
for the present at least, and said to the lad: 

“Well, Bob; if you care to face the rain and wind to 
return to your mother, you might stop in the office on 
your way to the Court-House, and tell the young scamp 
to run home if he has one — that I will see him some 
other day.” 

“I don’t mind the rain!” cried the elated Bob. “I can 


NO ART OF PERSUASION 


71 


swim like a duck; but this wind is just a little too stiff 
for my taste/’ 

Arthur Stokes had not noticed that Dr. Flint and 
George Boyessen had stood close by, for the last few 
minutes and heard most of his conversation with Bob. 

Bob had hurried away a few steps toward the door, 
when he came back, as if moved by a sudden instinct, 
and said: 

‘Tf you have any folks, sir, out on the beach that 
you want fetched in, I will go for them for you, Mr. 
Stokes. I will bring Miss Mary in from East Broadway, 
Mr. Stokes, if you want me to!” 


CHAPTER VI 


Arthur! Arthur! save me! 

The name of his darling so suddenly uttered by the 
boy, Bob — the great danger in which he realized she 
was placed produced such a shock upon Arthur Stokes 
that he turned pale as death. George Boyessen, by his 
side, stretched his arm, as if to catch the body of his 
falling friend. But the latter braced up in a second, 
and heaving a long breath, exclaimed: 

“The air of this place is vile — I thought Twas going 
to faint like a silly school girl. But where is that boy, 
Bobr 

“Disappeared like a flash. Your looks must have 
frightened him away,'' replied George, trying to laugh 
the incident off. 

“But he spoke of East Broadway — of Mary — of danger 

— Does either of you know whether Number East 

Broadway could possibly be affected by the storm?" 

“It could not!” affirmed Dr. Flint. “Number 

is situated among the best and most substantially built 
residences in Galveston. You are alarming yourself 
unnecessarily, Arthur. I tell you the Gulf is only throw- 
ing kisses to the Bay. Don’t begrudge Galveston its 
only source of excitement, little frolics like this!" 

“YTien fear is once aroused in my bosom, doctor," 

( 72 ) 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


73 


was Arthur's firm answer, “it is as difficult to remove 
it as it is to shake the confidence I have in my friends." 

“Thanks for that part of your neat little speech," said 
the doctor, heartily. “By the way, that Bob of yours 
is a brave little fellow. Think of a child of his size 
offering to go out on East Broadway in a gale like this!" 

“That makes me ashamed of my cowardice," exclaimed 
Boyessen. 

“And of mine, too!" said Arthur Stokes. And the 
two men shook hands in deep sympathy, while Arthur 
added: 

“If I can get a cab, I am going out on East Broadway 
this minute," and before either of his friends realized 
what his words really meant, he had opened the door 
and was splashing through the rain to the livery stable 
next to the Tremont. 

George Boyessen sprang out after him and entered 
the carriage with him before it left the shed. 

“I don't think the trip can be made," said the driver,, 
“but I will try it." 

Just out of Tremont street, about a block from the 
hotel, they overtook a Mr. Robinson, grain inspector at 
the Galveston port and his assistant, quite an elderly man. 

These gentlemen were wading their way through the 
water endeavoring to get home to their families. Arthur 
Stokes knew them and, stopping the carriage, motioned 
them to get in. They both accepted with profuse thanks, 
although they did not show any signs of serious anxiety. 
In fact the older man exclaimed, gleefully: 

“This is a gay frolic, gentlemen, the Gulf is giving us, 


74 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


and I am glad of it. Mac, here,’' pointing to Mr. Rob- 
inson, ‘‘is not an old Galvestonian like myself, and I 
have not been able to convince him that the old Gulf 
could go out on a lark like this, without doing any body 
or anything serious damage. For me, I must say, 
frankly, I am truly glad it is happening. It is bad on 
a man, who flatters himself to always speak the truth, 
to have his word constantly doubted whenever he tells 
what wonders the wind and waves did here in Galveston ; 
it all comes just because the fellow you are talking to 
is jealous of^you for having seen more wonders than 
himself. Isn’t that so, Mac? Ha! ha! Now speak out, 
man!” 

And the old gentleman punched Mr. Robinson in the 
ribs and laughed heartily. 

No one was so hilarious as Mr. Robinson’s assistant 
grain inspector. The wind and waves almost upset the 
carriage several times, but the old man fairly howled 
with delight. 

“Are you gentlemen going home?” Mr. Robinson en- 
quired. 

“No, we are not,” replied Arthur Stokes. 

The assistant inspector shouted: 

“Why, don’t' you see they are out on a lark, Mac! If 
I were ten years younger I would take you out for a 
plunge into the surf, see if I wouldn’t! There is nothing 
like it; nothing like it! The fact is, all you new-comers 
do not interpret the rising billows properly. You can 
best understand the holiday the Gulf is having, by bring- 
ing to your mind the picture of some buxom young 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


75 


wench and her buck leading’ the famous and ever popular 
cake walk. Can’t you see the great king of the waves 
leading out a coquetish billow by his side, and going 
through the manoeuvres, grand march and all?” con- 
cluded the old gentleman with a stately wave of the 
hand. Just then the driver cried out: 

‘This is Broadway!” 

“We will leave you here, gentlemen. Much obliged 
for the lift,” siaid Mr. Robinson. 

“No, no,” cried Arthur Stokes, “I insist on taking you 
both home.” 

“That I will not permit,” answered Mr. Robinson, “nor 
my friend either.” 

“No indeed, gentlemen, a little salt water will do us 
both good. Don’t let us detain you any longer.” 

With a splash, the two men stepped out into the deep 
water and waded onward toward the southwestern 
crossing of Broadway and Tremont street. 

Arthur Stokes watched their slow progress, looking 
out of the back window of the carriage as it continued 
rolling eastward on Broadway. 

“Look here,” he called to George Boyesson, “Mr. 
Robinson has just picked up something out of the water. 
It is a child as sure as fate! I truly hope it is not dead.” 

“A little boy, by his clothes,” said George Boyessen. 
“See he is putting him on his shoulders.” 

“I have a notion to turn back and take them in again,” 
said Arthur Stokes. 

“It is a sin to put two men out in such a storm as this. 


76 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


Just look, Arthur, if the ‘sad sea waves’ are not making 
a river through the carriage!” 

The two men lifted their feet over on the opposite 
seat and yelled to the driver to urge his horses on. ' 

It was useless to do so, for the poor frightened animals 
were already ploughing Avith all their might and main 
through the water, now rising faster and faster. Against 
the violent wind blowing from the northeast, the team 
were making the greatest effort of their lives. 

The carriage rocked from side to side and fairly carried 
off the horses out of their course. 

The two men gazed at each other in mute surprise, 
then watched again the dashing torrents. 

“We shall have to give it up, Arthur,” exclaimed 
George, with something like despair sounding, in his 
voice. “There is nothing to do but to get out and swim 
back to the hotel. I dare say long before we get there 
I shall have met the fate predicted by Aunt Lucinda — 
by which affectionate name you were wont to call her.” 

“George, this is too grave a position to allow of any 
jesting. In my opinion, we had better stay with the 
carriage as long as possible. When the driver finds thiat 
he cannot go further, he will say so. I believe now that 
we are going to reach the house we are bound for, but 
the return trip will be another question, deserving pretty 
serious consideration.” 

“I declare, Arthur, you are a brick of a philosopher!” 

Just then the driver called out: 

“I cannot get any further, gentlemen. We must go 
back. We’ll do well if we reach the Tremont alive.” 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


77 


*TIow far are we away from the house we are driving 
to?” asked Stokes. 

‘'About two blocks — as well as I can reckon,” shouted 
the driver. 

‘‘Drive these two blocks, my man, and Fll give you 
fifty dollars for your trouble,” was Arthur’s quick re- 
joinder. 

“I will do my best, sir!” and on the horses plunged. 

The water was now over the seats in the carriage, and 
its two occupants were soon wet through up to the knees. 
Stokes looked at his watch : 

“Can you believe it, George? We have been one hour 
and a half coming this distance from the hotel. It is 
now four o’clock.” 

All kinds of debris and refuse from yards and out- 
houses, as well as sections of wooden fences, came float- 
ing toward them from the Gulf. In another instant a 
collection of this wreckage struck the carriage with such 
violence that over it went, to the right; the occupants 
had seen the mass of debris rushing toward them on 
that side, and before the collapse had jumped into the 
water through the opposite door. Just in the nick of 
time, the two friends and their driver found themselves 
standing in the water beside their wrecked carriage. It 
was a miraculous escape. The first shock over, the men 
busied themselves with the poor horses struggling in 
the rising torrent. Tliey were soon freed from their 
harness and stoiod trembling with fear, in front of what 
had been once a well-kept closed hack. 

At the earnest request of Arthur and George, the 


78 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


driver bestrode one of the steeds, and leading the other, 
headed toward the Tremont. 

The two friends were now left to sink or swim — and 
swim they did quite bravely considering how they were 
encumbered by heavy water-soaked clothing. Both 
thought of Lucinda and her cruel prophecy, but neither 
had the courage tO' mention them. 

They were determined not to get separated, and so, 
taking hold of opposite ends of a long plank they slowly 
made their way to the north side of the street, where 
they had. some protection from the wind, and, where the 
fences proved of some assistance in helping them on. 
Several times they were taken off their balance and 
swooped down head foremost, but they promptly strug- 
gled to their feet again. Of course they made but very 
slow headway on account of several such experiences. 
Finally, almost in despair, they braced themselves, arm 
in arm against a fence. 

“Poor, poor Mary! How cruel fate has been to us!” 
sighed Arthur; “here I am so near to her and yet unable 
to come to her help. Great God! must we stand here 
and wait for death? George, if perchance I am lost, 
and by some special providence you are saved, be sure 
and find Mary — and tell her — all — Tell her how we 
struggled to get to her — ^will you, George, will you? 
Tell her my love has ever remained the same — Tell 
her—” 

“Hello, there,” interrupted a voice from a house near 
by. “Can’t you brave it out a little further? Just catch 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


79 


this rope and if you can hold on tight we’ll help you 
conquer the wind!” 

“We are saved!” cried George Boyessen. “Come on, 
Arthur, here is the end of the rope. Catch it; don’t 
let it go.” 

Arthur’s strength seemed almost spent, but George, 
who seemed suddenly filled with hopeful energy, fastened 
the rope under his arms securely, and taking hold of his 
friends’ arm with one of his hands, he pulled at the rope 
with the other, and thus managed to keep them both 
from drowning. 

Gradually the distance that separated them from their 
rescuers grew less and less, although it seemed an 
eternity before they climbed the stairs in front of a stately 
mansion and dragged themselves up and into the house. 

Several men and women rushed into the hall to wel- 
come them. It was now so dark, it was difficult to dis- 
tinguish one face from the other. Several spoonfuls of 
whiskey were quickly poured down the tliroats of the 
two exhausted men, and food and water were both sup- 
plied to them in abundance. 

In a warm room, upstairs, they took off their drenched 
clothes and were liberally supplied with dry ones. Both 
were half frozen from their contact and struggle with 
water and wind, and now they were drowsy from the 
effects of the warm temperature and the whiskey. 

“Is it night or is it the storm that makes the house 
and everything outside so dark?” enquired Arthur 
Stokes. 


80 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


“It is a little of bo1»h.” answered a man standing close 
by. “It is now just six o’clock/' 

“Think of it, Arthur,” cried George Boyessen, “we 
were out there in that rushing torrent for nearly two 
hours, after the carriage was wrecked.” 

Just then a fearful gust of wind hit the house like a 
blow from a gigantic sledge-hammer. 

Everyone rushed into one room and pandemonium 
reigned supreme. 

“The northeast part of the house is gone!” cried the 
owner. “Everybody down stairs. The wind is chang- 
ing and blows now at an 80 mile rate!” 

No one waited to hear more — all rushed down stairs. 

Suddenly all connections with the electric light power 
and the gas-works were cut off, and had not a servant 
brought in a few candles no one would have dared move 
about in the darkened room. 

“I am frantic,” whispered Stokes to his friend; “I am 
frantic at the thought that now we are too late to be 
of any help to poor Mary, whose house must not be 
more than a few doors distant — surely she needs help — ” 

At that moment a beautiful young woman glided 
into the room, bearing a candle in each hand. 

“Oh! there you are at last, dear Aunt Mary?” cried 
a child. 

“Yes, here I am, darling, come to me,” the new-comer 
called, and she stooped to take a lovely little girl in her 
arms. 

Arthur Stokes stood there, motionless, as if the, sound 
of that voice had dazed him; recovering his spirits in a 


ARTHUR! ARTHUR! SAVE ME! 


81 

moment, he stepped closer to the young woman and 
peering intently into her face he cried: “Lord in 
Heaven! it is Mary.” 

At that very minu'je, the storm hit the house with 
the force of a thousand cannon balls. The building was 
split from foundation to roof and its huge fragments 
carried away, like so many feathers, out upon the greedy 
waves. 

“Arthur! Arthur, my love, my only love, save me!” 
shrieked a despairing voice. A second more, and Mary 
Phelps had disappeared from view. The greatest cyclone 
in the history of the Atlantic Coast had swooped upon 
them ! 



The two monsters meet — and seal the fate of poor Galveston. 


CHAPTER VII 


NO RECOURSE 

Arthur Stokes and George Boyessen both sprang for- 
ward, when the dreadful, fiendish tornado burst the house 
apart, and by an almost incredible stroke of luck, amidst 
the mass of debris carried away by the rushing torrent, 
they met and seized in their powerful grasp both Mary 
and her little niece. 

It was impossible to hear a word spoken, so terrible 
was the raging of the storm, and so fearful was the noise 
made by the crashing of the timbers as house after house 
went down without a warning. 

“We’ll die together, darling Mary,” said Arthur ' 
Stokes close to Mary’s ears; but his whisper was a 
hoarse shout. Even then she did not hear him, but she 
felt his warm arm around her and she cried: 

“Oh, Arthur! how cruel I have been to you! What 
a sin I have committed!” 

She clung desperately to her little niece, who was 
screaming at the top of her voice: 

“Auntie! auntie! I am dying! Oh, auntie, save me, 
save me!” 

“No, dear, we are not dying! God will save us yet!” 

Down and down the street, now transformed into a 
furious stream, these four unfortunates, clasped tightly 
together, were carried off by this frightful wave, thinking 

( 82 ) 


KO RECOURSE 


83 


their last moment had arrived, and a supreme appeal to 
the God above escaped their lips. 

When the torrent, already gorged with countless debris 
and bodies, belched them up, Mary Phelps found herself 
upon what seemed the upturned roof of a house — and 
still in her arms she held closely her little niece. 

‘‘Oh! mamma and papa, where are they, auntie, 
darling. Are they dead?” 

“I hope not, dear. But now hold on tight to aunty; 
it will require all of our strength not to slip from this 
roof. Oh! how terrible! the cyclone has carried our 
two friends away.” 

“Are they killed?” asked the child, her mouth close 
to her aunt’s ear. 

U‘Great God, I trust not!” said the aunt, the tears 
running down her blanched cheeks. “Dearie, ask no 
more questions for a while, and hold on closely to aunty.” 

Above the roar of the storm they suddenly heard the 
call: “Mary, Mary?” 

“We are here!” she answered, “on the housetop, baby 
and I.” 

Through the dim light which seemed to come from 
the west, she distinguished two black figures holding on 
to some timber. 

Her raft-like housetop was driven that way, and soon 
log and roof collided. As they struck, the two men 
made a bold jump, arid landed on the improvised raft to 
which Mary and her little charge were clinging for dear 
life. 

“Let’s stay close together!” cried Stokes. “If we only 


84 


NO RECOURSE 


can weather this blast for a few moments longer we^ll 
be saved/’ 

They huddled close to each other and all were silent, 
hoping for life yet reconciled to death that seemed in- 
evitable. Suddenly, George Boyessen raised himself up 
on the raft and, looking into the darkness shouted: 

“Ho'ld on with all your might, we are being carried 
into the Gulf!” 

“Then our doom is sealed,” cried Arthur Stokes; “let 
us all pray.” And, all listened in reverent awe, to his 
impassioned appeal to the supreme Lord of winds and 
waters. 

No sooner had the word “Amen” been pronounced, 
than an awful monster wave rode over them and they 
sank from sight. 

When they arose from the depths, one of their number 
was missing — It was Arthur Stokes — 

They had been hardly more than a minute out of the 
surging waters, when another green-eyed monster, 
greedy for human life, hurled the heavy timbers of a 
railroad bridge at their raft only a shell in comparison, 
and mashed it into a thousand splinters. 

“Catch on to the bridge!” shouted George Boyessen. 
as they were tossed up again. 

He was still clinging to Mary and the child and thanks 
to his intrepid, tireless help, they once more had some- 
thing they could grasp, for a few moments longer. 

But would this horrible tribulation ever end? Cen- 
turies seemed to have come and gone, since they had 
seen the bright sun and the cloudless sky. 


NO RECOURSE 


85 


Was there any possible escape from this terrible death? 
Or were they pledged to the yawning abyss? 

Further and further they drifted into the sea, too weak 
and terrorized to talk, even if their voices could have 
been heard above the raging of the sea. They had no 
recourse but to wait for death to release them from the 
terrible suspense and agony in which they were now 
being held. 

Mary Phelps v/as no longer able to hold her niece in 
her arms and had it not been for George Boyessen the 
child would have been long since lost. 

‘^The little girl is so cold I am afraid — afraid-^’^ 
George Boyessen stopped, he had not the heart to utter 
his thoughts although he himself could not hear tht 
sound of his own voice. 

“We must protect her between our own two bodies or 
I am afraid — afraid — ” he shouted into Mary’s ears. 

By a heroic effort, Mary managed to secure a com- 
paratively firm seat on a big timber, while with her one 
hand free, she helped George Boyessen put the child 
astride the log, and between them they shielded her 
somewhat from the wind and at the same time they were 
able to hold her more safely. 

“Are we dying?” asked the little girl, as she nestled 
her curly head, soaked with rain and sea water against 
her auntie’s breast. Poor Mary was equally drenched 
by the waters of the briny deep. She managed to shout 
into the child’s ear: 

‘‘No, dear, we are not dying. It will soon be morn- 
ing now, and we shall surely be rescued/’ 


86 


NO RECOURSE 


Little did the brave g^irl know of the fearful hours 
of agony through which they would be compelled to 
pass before daylight would shine again on this devastated 
part of the world. 

“Poor Arthur!” she heard George Boyessen exclaim, 
with deeply felt grief. 

“He was your friend?” asked Mary, during a short 
lull in the tempest. 

“My only friend,” was the answer, “and he is no 
morel” 

Those words rent Mary’s very soul, yet she replied: 

“Perhaps he is not lost, after all! He may be at this 
moment, close by, holding on to some timber like our- 
selves. We must keep on the lookout, and if chance 
brings him or some other poor storm-tossed creature 
within our reach, we may be able to help them.’^ 

George Bo^^essen only heard a few of the words spoken 
by Mary, yet he knew she was speaking words of cheer, 
and the hot blood mounted to his cheeks at the thought 
of his own faint heart. 

“The Gulf must be carrying us back to the main land,” 
he suddenly shoiited, with hope again in his voice; “the 
wind must be shifting — yes — it is — it is coming now 
from the east or south east. But, watch out — I see more 
wrecks coming to us!” 

At that very moment, several big frame houses and^ 
huge board cisterns crashed together as they floated 
but a few feet from the three castaways. 

Cries of: “Help, help,” were heard on every side, as 
hundreds of people were swept away by the drift, and 


NO RECOURSE 


87 


others holding- on to improvised rafts, hardly managed 
to keep above water, a few moments long-er. 

Suddenly, through the intense darkness a dim light 
appeared close at hand, and coming from the same 
direction, a voice was heard shouting above the roar of 
wind and wave: 

“Steer toward the light! We have ropes to haul you 
up/’ - 

By singular good luck, the current carried their floating 
wreck in that .direction, and in a few seconds, it struck 
with a force that almost precipitated them into the awful 
abyss — against a two story house — still standing high 
upon its foundation; and they found themselves only a 
few feet below the second story openings. 

“Here,” some one cried, from a window close by the 
one from which shone the light of a single, flickering 
candle — the most merciful of beacons it had been to the 
unfortunates! “Keep up courage,” the piercing and 
cheery voice went on, “and Til soon have you all safe 
in the house; there is no danger here.” 

It took some time, however, for George Boyessen to 
get himself in a position to reach the window sill. 

When he succeeded, a wiry hand clasped his, while 
the same voice called out: 

“Pass over the kid, and hold onto the woman; in a 
minute, you’ll all be safe.” 

Obeying instructions, the child was first taken in 
through the window. Then a rope, with a noose 
already prepared which hung out of the window was 
made secure under Mary Phelps’ arms, to provide against 


NO RECOURSE 


her being dashed away if she lost her hold on the sill 
before getting within. Then, George Boyessen, with a 
herculean eflfort, helped to put her out of danger^s way. 
while he held on to the window lihc grim death. 

“No more passengers?’' called out the voice of the 
rescuer as George Boyessen scrambled through the open 
window and fell inside the room, more dead than alive. 

No sound escaped the lips of the three people just 
snatched from the jaws of death. After their intrepid 
conduct of the last few hours, the reaction had set in, 
leaving them on the floor, limp and motionless. As they 
slowly managed to open their eyes, they realized with 
amazement that their rescuer was but a slender lad, 
hardly more than eighteen years old, but with intre- 
pidity shining out of his large, black eyes. 

He stood there, looking upon the three exhausted 
visitors his courageous presence of mind had thus 
brought under shelter, then suddenly exclaimed, as if 
speaking to himself: 

“This is a great out! To rescue people and then stand 
around like a chump and let them die I They need water, 
wine, food. It is lucky for them that the people who 
lived here, brought some of their stuff upstairs before 
they decided to leave the house.” 

The little girl received his first attention, after he 
had put water and food on the floor near the three 
victims of the tornado. He rolled the child over and 
over on the floor till the salt water rushed out of her 
mouth. Then placing her tenderly in his lap he poured 
several spoonfuls of water and whiskey down her throat. 


NO RECOURSE 


In a few moments, the drenched child showed signs 
of life, then murmured: “Mamma, mamma, I am 
dying !” 

“No, no,” cried the young fellow; “you are not going 
to die this time yet, young lad}^ — But, first thing, you 
must eat — ” 

She opened her eyes and answered, in a dazed way: 
“Eat? Why, am, I at home?” 

“You are safe,” the boy replied', as he gave her food, 
and then stretched her tenderly on the floor. 

He now put a stimulant. to the lips of Mary Phelps 
and George Boyessen, both of whom swallowed it eagerly 
and in a few moments were able to partake heartily of 
food. 

Suddenly they heard the shout: “Help, help,” and 
the boy rushed to the window. 

“That’s a brave young fellow,” George Boyessen said 
to Mary Phelps. “I must get myself together again 
and help him rescue the poor beings.” 

By that time, their savior had thrown out the rope 
again and a man who had floated against the house with 
some other people on a raft was endeavoring to put the 
noose under the arms of an old woman, who seemed 
violently crazy with fright. 

“She is a poor old creature, be careful with her,” the 
man shouted from below. 

George Boyessen and the boy lifted her up tenderly 
through the window. 

Slipping the rope quickly from under her arms the 
lad threw the noose out again on its task of rescuej 


90 


NO RECOURSE 


leaving George Boyessen to hold the new comer who 
fought them desperately. No sooner had the rope been 
removed and the half crazed old woman dragged into 
the room, than she yelled: 

“Didn’t I tell you this is the Lord’s doings! He 
wants us all to perish. You are sinning against him 
in trying to save your lives!” 

George Boyessen thought he recognized the voice 
and taking up the candle, he brought it close to her face 
and exclaimed: 

“Great Lord, it is Lucinda Stokes! My dioodoo.’ ” 

Just then, the negro sorceress tore herself from 
Boyessen’s grasp, and seeing her way clear to the win- 
dow, dashed past everyone, and before a hand could 
be raised to interfere with her insane resolve, climbed 
the window with an agility far beyond her age, and 
sprang into the blinding storm, screaming: “Blasphem- 
ers, I am going to God!” 

They did not even hear the splash of her body as it 
fell into the water, so frightful .was the shrieking of the 
wind, the lashing of the waves and the crashing of 
timbers in their efforts to take the right of way. Besides, 
they were all too busy helping new friends from the 
raging torrent to the sheltering house. 

Mary Phelps, with a sad though tearless face, as she 
thought of all those she loved and had lost forever, was 
like a ministering angel to those just rescued. She 
bound the bleeding limbs, gave food and water to the 
hungry and thirsty, and cheered the despairing ones with 
^vords of hope. 


NO RECOURSE 91 



^torm, 


Somehow, and in 
spite of the continued 
tempest, everyone be- 
gan to feel that their 
lives should be spared, 
and that soon the worst 
would be over. 

A large clock on a 
mantel close by chimed 
out in slow regularity 
the hour of nine. 

‘‘I thought,” said 
Mary Phelps, *‘that it 
was nearly morning.” 

^‘And I,” said a man 
snatched from the whirl- 
pool below, and holding 
up his broken arm that 
Mary Phelps had ban- 
daged, “I felt as if I 
should never see anoth- 
er morning.” 

Here was heard the 
little girFs plaintive 
voice. 

“Auntie, darling, will 
my mamma be home 
when we get back?” 

“Auntie does not 
know, for sure, baby; 



92 


NO RECOURSE 



we may see her in 


” continued the child. 
; and she added, in a child-wise tone: ‘‘Peo- 
ple in heaven cannot 
see people on earth.” 
These quaitit, earnest 
words brought tears to 
the eyes of these un- 
fornate comrades in 
trouble, all of whom 
were men but the little 
speaker and her aunt. 
But a direr calamity 
was still to come, for 
the boy-rescuer just 
then shouted: 

“Prepare for the 
worst! the house is 
moving!” 

Cool and active 
amid the cries of ter- 
ror caused by his an- 
nouncement, the lad 
fastened a stout rope 
under Mary’s and the 
child’s arms, twining 
the other end of the 
cord several times 


. . . with a look of intense horror, 
George Boyessen sank to a watery 
grave. 


NO RECOURSE 


m 


around His own body. Then, clutching a long pole on 
which a much torn and very wet piece of cloth was hang- 
ing, he prepared to take charge of the girl and the baby 
in this new fight for life. 

He was not a second too s^oon. An unearthly shriek 
of the wind — A deafening roar of the water — A ter- 
rific crash of the timbers — and these few human beings, 
a moment ago seemingly safe in their place of shelter, 
sank through the torn up floors and were swept out of 
sight. 

Just then, a huge timber struck George Boyessen on 
the back of the neck, as he floated out into the Gulf 
and with a despairing shriek and a look of intense horror 
on his face he went down to a watery grave. 

Lucinda Stokes’ prophecy had claimed its second 
victim! 


CHAPTER Vni 


A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 

Dr. Flint watched his two young friends, as they rode 
off in the closed carriage, and his thoughts ran this way: 

“What a fool a man will make of himself when in 
love with some girl. She is a lucky creature, though, 
to have captured the heart — and pocket-book — of Arthur 
Stokes! I wonder who she can be? Mary? Yes, that 
was the name he spoke. And the other name — certainly 
I heard another name also? Well if I did I can not 
recall it now. Let me see, I ought to know that number 
on East Broadway — Ugh, this wind is giving us a blow. 
I’ll look up the number in the directory.” Dr. Flint 
searched the book for a few moments; then he said, 
under his breath: 

“‘Henry Phelps — counsHT6r-at-law,’ I declare! The 
home of Hon. Henry Phelps, judge of the Superior Court 
of Galveston. Any other inmate of the house mentioned 
here? Yes, ‘Miss Mary Phelps,’ that’s the name Arthur 
uttered in my presence! So that’s the lady, is it? Well, 
ril tease him with it, the next time we meet; for I am 
‘onto’ his secret now, at least as far as the name of his 
sweetheart is concerned. I wonder if she is the judge’s 
daughter. I — I was under the impression that he had 
no children. Perhaps she is his sister — or his niece — 
anyway, my friend is certainly very much attached to 

( 94 ) 


A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 96 

her — Does she return his love, I wonder? If one can 
judge correctly by a fellow’s actions I should say that 
Stokes has not fully settled that question in his own 

mind. Let me see now — No. East Broadway? Why 

that house is in no danger from the storm, even if it 
is far out, near Lucas Terrace. Why the Terrace is per- 
fectly safe — and, anyway, there was no need of Arthur 
rushing out through this wild storm — Judge^ Phelps is 
amply able to take care of his own household.” Then, 
suddenly, 

“Hello there, Rowan,” he called out to a burly police-, 
man, who was pushing his way through the crowd a 
short distance from where Dr. Flint stood soliloquizing. 

The officer stopped and took the doctor’s proffered 
hand. 

“How is everything on the outside, Rowan?” asked 
the physician. 

“Mighty bad, doctor, mighty bad and growing worse,” 
was the short answer. 

“Do you know Judge Phelps’ residence out on East 
Broadway?” questioned the doctor. 

“Oh, yes, it is a big, strong frame building, in no 
danger whatever,” replied Rowan. 

“A large family?” continued the doctor. 

' “The wife, one little daughter, and a sister. You know 
it’s the judge’s second wife; she was a school girl friend 
of his youngest sister. Miss Mary Phelps. You sec I 
am posted when it comes to rich people’s family affairs, 
the officer added, with a good-natured smile, then he 


96 A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 


said, 'The judge’s family and mine were old friends back 
home.” 

Then he pushed his way on through the crowd, bent 
on the performance of some duty. 

"If the officer had not been in such a hurry, I am sure 
I could have heard all about Mary’s love story,” thought 
the doctor. "I vow, I believe I am getting as inquisitive 
as a woman, in my old age. Gad, what changes the 
years do bring!” and he laughed softly to himself. 

There was a feeling of great uneasiness among the 
great crowd who now filled the hotel office and lower 
rooms to their utmost capacity. This feeling was in- 
creased every time another refugee managed to penetrate 
through the dense assemblage and told what he had seen 
and what he believed about the storm. 

All sorts of reports were being spread, and when, 
less than an hour later, the water was even with the 
sidewalk in front of the hotel, everyone, even the man 
with the ever-ready joke about everybody and every- 
thing, began to look gravely concerned. 

All doors and windows were being blown open, one 
after the other, the broken glass scattered all over the 
floor. They were ordered barred, and while several 
strong men held them closed, others nailed heavy boards 
across them. 

The water came up to the door slowly and regularly 
then, all of a sudden, it made a rush, and while men 
chopped holes in the floor, to help water run out to the 
cellars, the water rose, almost at one bound, to a height 
of five feet in the rotunda, 


A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMOKT 97 

It took the bewildered crowd, as it rushed to the upper 
floor^ but one minute to disco'ver that this was not semi- 
fresh water from the Bay, but the briny water of the Gulf, 
whose natural confines lay a mile to the south. 

The great throng of restless human beings that a 
moment ago had occupied every bit of space the lower 
floor of the hotel afforded, now herded together on the 
great wide stairs leading to the gallery above, and in 
the parlors on the second floor. It was then barely five 
o’clock, and yet, the whole place was already shrouded 
in darkness, to the growing terror of the hundreds 
sheltered within the big hostelry. The wind had now 
fairly started on its deadly work and yet no one inside 
and not many even of those on the outside were conr 
scious of the impending catastrophy. 

Still, the frightened children cried, the women walked 
the floor wringing their hands and the lea-st pious among 
the men breathed a prayer. 

The attendants of the hotel ran here and there, in 
bewildered disorder, obeying orders in a sort of dazed 
manner. 

The glass panes above, which admitted light to the 
galleries and rotunda below began to give way and 
broken pieces by the score fell to the water on the office 
floor. 

All of a sudden, as it were, everyone seemed to realize 
that there was danger from every direction and no one 
dared approach the railing around the balconies. The 
screams of the wind and the roar of the water, together 
with the breaking of windows; the fall of the skylight, 


98 A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 

of chimneys, of plastering', and of the slate from the 
top of the house, all this babel of unearthly noises was 
enough to daunt the most thoughtless of- this motley 
crowd. But the worst was still to come, for a fearful 
rumbling and a heavy low growling were heard in two 
opposite directions, growing and growing with ominous 
rapidity, until the two monsters met and sealed the fate 
of poor Galveston. 

In the fangs of these two giants, the dome of the 
hotel was only a swaddling baby. At the summit of the 
hotel dome, proudly waved the flag of our union on 
which had been painted, in big letters, the words: 
“Tremont Hotel.’’ The staff of this stately banner, 
broken in a thousand pieces, came crashing down with 
huge fragments of the entire dome, and thus completed 
the destruction of the skylight. 

Six o’clock now ; but with the usual hour for supper, 
no meal was forthcoming, for the smoke stack above 
the kitchen had come down early in the afternoon, while 
water was running like a stream through the room. 
Besides, who among these awe-stricken refugees could 
have mustered up the semblance of an appetite. The 
majority believed themselves doomed and expected death 
at every minute. 

In this supreme pandemonium, a young woman, 
braver than the rest, who had ventured to look over the 
railing, suddenly asked her neighbor: 

'‘What is it that man is carrying up the stairs?” 

The answer was: "It looks like a half drowned 
woman.” 


A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 99 

Just then, a bell-boy broug-ht in some lighted candles, 
the faint glimmer of which hardly helped to dispell the 
gloom, and when policemjan Rowan and his colleague, 
officer Bird, who followed him up with a similar burden, 
deposited the half-dead creatures they carried, in chairs 
which kind and thoughtful hands quickly placed for 
them, some men holding candles and others went in 
search of a doctor. 

“I leave these women in your charge,’’ said policeman 
Rowan to Dr. Flint, who, just then, stepped up to offer 
his professional services. “Come on, Bird, we must be 
off; there are many others who need us, out there.” 

Each of the officers took a glass of wine that a kind 
woman thoughtfully handed him, and without further 
talk they were gone. 

Every few moments, for over an hour, these brave 
fellows returned bringing in men, women and children 
they had rescued from the tempest and torrent. 

As the rain increased its down-pours, the wind in- 
creased its velocity. Lower and lower dropped the 
barometer, while the anemometer registered eighty-four 
miles an hour as the wind’s velocity. 

“How much faster can it blow, Dr. Flint?” asked 
a pale and anxious woman. 

“Only God Almighty can tell,” was the brief but 
reverent answer. 

“It is beyond the comprehension of mortal man, to 
conceive the wonders of God’s work and the hidden 
purpose of His manifestations,” said a stranger standing 


ioo A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 


close by. Having delivered the above sentiment, he 
knelft down and began to pray in a loud voice. 

^‘Soine parson, I’ll wager,” said a commercial traveler 
close by. “Here, my friend!” he cried catching the pray- 
ing man by th^ arm, “things are dark enough around 
here, without that grave-like howl.” There was a mur- 
mur of protest from many of the bystanders, but the loud 
pray.er ceased, though the old man remained on his 
knees and sent up a silent petition for every soul in 
Galveston. 

“Another batch of refugees, stand back, gentlemen,” 
called out Dr. Flint, as a powerfully built policeman 
came in carrying three half-dead children. 

The other rescued ones had been given dry clothes 
by the hotel proprietor and guests; this time, the house- 
keeper and a Mrs. Gregory, one of the boarders, a good, 
kind motherly soul, took the three children in charge 
and soon they were sleeping soundly in cots made up 
for them in the housekeeper’s own room. Alas! who 
could tell where their parents were! 

“How are things outside?” asked a man of the police- 
man after the latter had disposed of his precious bur- 
dens, breathing a silent prayer that his own darling 
babies might be likewise as safe. While wiping a 
suspicious moisture from his eyes, he replied: 

“Not so bad but that it can become worse — and that’s 
happening right along!” 

“It cannot last much longer, can it?” piteously queried 
a woman who followed the officer to the head of the 
stairway as he hurried on urged by duty and love. 


Annihilation of the whole Denver Re-Survey District. 



A NIGHT OF HORROR AT THE TREMONT 103 

Several men stopped him on the stairs to ask questions 
about the state of af¥airs, but he pushed by saying: 

“Gentlemen, I have no time to talk; I have got to 
do my duty and rescue some more storm victims/’ 

“Let me help you!” cried a fashionably dressed young 
fellow who, until then, had probably never thought of 
taking any such daring step. “It is a sin to sit here and 
brood, when help is so badly needed outside and only a 
few brave men like you are left to do the work.” 

“Can you get an ax?” asked officer Bird, with an 
approving, cordial nod. 

“Here is one,” cried a porter; “I have finished cutting 
holes in the floor.” 

“And here is another,” spoke up another belLboy. 

The young man grabbed the first and said: “Which 
way?” 

“To the Strand,” replied the officer, taking the other 
ax. 

“To the Strand?” asked a half dozen people. 

“Yes,” he replied, “to Charlie Ritter’s; the house has 
collapsed and fifty or more people are buried in the 
ruins;” and he hurried away accompanied by the volun- 
teer. 


CHAPTER IX 

ON TO THE strand! 

If some doubts were entertained by officer Rowan 
about the mettle of the young- fellow who had volun- 
teered his assistance he had soon to admit that liis new 
friend did not show the white feather when set to battle 
with the elements in the submerged streets. 

It was only with the help of a strong pole ten feet 
long, and with a wind-proof lantern, that the two men 
were able to wade and swim through the water in many 
places up to their necks. 

Almost every object the human mind can conceive 
were encountered floating in the streets, the latter turned 
into deep channels through which the water rushed on 
madly to — where? To the Gulf, from West Bay, and 
again, from West Bay to the Gulf; for the sea- waves 
were sweeping to and fro, in their most fearful mood, 
over poor, devastated Galveston. 

Boxes, telephone poles, coal bins, horses, vehicles, 
heavy timbers, flotsam and jetsam of every conceivable 
kind of merchandise greatly impeded the rescuers’ pro- 
gress, rendered already so difficult by torrent and 
tornado. 

It is not surprising, therefore, that they should have 
had to struggle for over one hour and a half before 
reaching the Strand and Ritter’s place. 

( 104 } 


ON TO THE STRAND! 


105 


The most astonishing part of it all to the young volun- 
teer was that a policeman or any other man having been 
out once into this veritable inferno, would again venture 
his life for the sake of his fellow-beings, or that they 
were able to get to Ritter’s place at all. 

And when they did reach the goal of their heroic 
efforts, oh the horror that met their eyes! 

Through utter darkness arose the shrieks of the un- 
fortunate! 

At first it seemed perfect madness for any one to make 
any attempt to get into the awful pile of debris from 
the collapsed house, to try to remove the dead and 
wounded. Yet the group of stout hearted policemen 
already on the spot, and in whose work of deliverance, 
the newcomers now took part with might and main, 
never thought, fo’r a moment, to shirk their duty. 

Alas, in spite of heroic efforts, they were making but 
slow progress. 

Fifty men would not have sufficed to do the work 
quick enough to rescue the wounded before they would 
be drowned or smothered. The roof and the two upper 
stories had given way under the awful pressure of the 
wind and water, and, entombed under them, lay a num- 
ber of victims, among them several of Galveston’s most 
prominent business men, who had chosen the doomed 
house as a refuge from the storm. 

“This way, quick,” called a victim. “My God! I 
am dying!” 

The rescuing party made haste to the spot whence 
carqe the voice, and half a dozen m^n began removing 


106 


ON TO THE STRAND! 


the debris while half as many more held lanterns close 
together and searched for the owner of the despairing 
voice. They soon found the poor fellow, a colored man 
not more than twenty years old. 

‘Tt is George/’ said policeman Rowan, ‘‘help me 
carry him to some sheltered spot.” 

“Yes,” said the man, “I am George Stokes, the grand- 
son of Lucinda Stokes, the prophetess — and I think my 
whole right side^is crushed in — Lay me any place, gentle- 
men, any place and ’tend the people what can live — I 
know I’ve got to go — Grandmother warned me to leave 
Ritter’s by two o’clock or I would meet my death.” He 
stopped a moment, while the men who had been left by 
the dying boy, put a flask to his blanched lips; pushing 
it aside, as if he had given up even hjs taste for strong 
drink, he continued in broken words: 

“I — never — believed — in her prophecies — and refused 
— to heed — her, and now — I — die — ” 

As he fainted they laid him on the floor in a building 
close by and in a moment he had breathed his last. 

The sight of the maimed, torn and bleeding negro 
filled the bravest hearts with horror, and still they turned 
away from the dead man,, and rushed back to answer 
the pitiful appeals of other wounded and dying victims. 

“All hands here,” called policeman Bird.^ “There’s a 
man down there, pinned under by heavy rafters. Be 
quick or he will die!” 

“Can you speak?” some one called to the half-crushed 
man. 

He muttered something they could not make oiit, 


ON TO THE STRAND! 


107 


^^Can you move?” asked a policeman, while working 
hard to free the poor fellow from his awful burden. 

‘T cannot,” was the weak answer. ‘‘My legs and arms 
must be broken — Save me if you can — At least get me 
somewhere so I can make a last confession.” 

“No calamity is so terrible that it cannot be painted 
worse,” said a man holding up a lantern. “The man’s 
voice sounds positively uncanny to me. What terrible 
deed has he co'mmitted that he wants confessing so bad ?” 

“God alone knows,” some one answered. 

The brick and timber were soon removed. An im- 
provised stretcher had been brought from some place 
and the dying man carefully laid on it and carried under 
shelter where every attention Was given him that was 
possible under the circumstances. 

Two surgeons chanced to be refugees in the building 
where the wounded man was taken, and notwithstanding 
the fact that he objected seriously to his broken limbs 
being set, the medical men refused to listen to his plead- 
ings and did their work promptly and well. 

“What’s the use? What’s the use?” repeated the 
poor fellow; “why do you insist in setting the broken 
bones of a dying man?” 

“But, my dear man, you are not going to die. You 
have too much vitality not to live through this accident,” 
declared one of the surgeons. 

“You may think so, doctor,” was the rather startling 
reply, “but I know better — I have but a few hours to 
remain on earth — ” 

The doctor looked at the patient, and when he saw 


108 


ON TO THE STRAND! 


the spasms of pain cross his face, he could not help re- 
gretting his dry and matter-of-fact ways in the case. He 
seated himself by the young fellow and said, soothingly: 

“You are young and strong, my friend, everything is 
in favor of your recovery.” 

“Yes, yes, I know, youth and health are on my side, 
doctor; but the great load I am carrying on my con- 
science makes me as weak as a babe.” 

“A confession,” said the surgeon to himself as he 
placed his ear closer to the lips of his patient. The latter 
resumed, speaking in low but impassioned tones: 

“Promise me, doctor, to hear my story through and, 
when I am gone, to try and make right the wrong I 
have done. I never realized the enormity of my sin 
until that terrible catastrophe befell me an hour or more 
ago. Let no one but your ears hear this.” 

Tlie doctor answered: “I am at your disposal, sir; 
there is no danger of your being overheard.” 

“In my right-hand inside pocket,” began the man, 
“you will find my card-case, a few letters, the keys to 
my trunk and private bank box. All these things I 
request you to take to my cousin. Miss Mary Phelps, 
when I am gone. She is in this city, at the home of 
her uncle. Judge Phelps.” 

Here, the speaker drew a long, painful breath, as if 
he felt all the grievousness of the offense he was about 
to confess. 

“We had a very wealthy maiden aunt,” he resumed, 
“who died nine years ago. My cousin Mary was her 
favorite niece, and to her she left her entire fortune 


ON TO THE STRAND! 


109 


provided she complied to the letter to the terms of her 
will. It expressly stated that AJary should be married, 
within one year, to some man whom she loved. If this 
request was not obeyed, she was not to receive one 
dollar, and the entire estate of more than a million, was 
to- be mine. I did not care for the money, but I loved 
my cousin passionately. She had refused me over and 
over a^ain and I felt so desperate about it that I swore 
a big’ oath that if she was not mine I would ruin her 
life. In those days she had a lover, a fine fellow, but 
poor; he had been cut off and disinherited by his family 
because he sympathized with his eldest sister who had 
married a scalawag of an Italian and had been disavowed 
on that account. But he was a plucky young chap 
and made his way right up. He had asked for Mary’s 
hand, and she had not refused him. The knowledge of 
this drove me to commit the crime I am now confessing 
to you, in what I truly believe to be my last moments 
on earth. First, I resorted to every kind of lies to keep 
these two young people apart for a year and to make 
them distrust and hate each other bitterly. How well 
I succeeded you will know when I tell you that for 
eight years they have not seen or heard of each other, 
and that I have for that length of time, been the abso- 
lute possessor of my aunt’s fortune. That money, I 
affirm most solemnly, I had no need of or desire for, hav- 
ing plenty of independent means myself. It has been kept 
untouched, with the interest, and now, sir, I beseech you 
to find Mary and to tell her all I have done to destroy 
her life’s happiness. Ask her to forgive a dying man 


no 


ON TO THE SrRAND! 


and tell her I have never spent a cent of our aunt’s 
fortune. You may add — as this may touch her kind 
heart — ^that I met a beautiful young girl whom I loved 
better than I ever loved her, and that on account of the 
awful sin I had committed, I had to let my happiness 
pass. Tell her all, sir, do not spare me. By the help 
of these keys, all the fortune left by our old relative can 
be secured and returned to her — its rightful owner.” 

The man ceased speaking. The doctor put his ear 
to his heart and smiled to hear it beat normally. He 
gave him a few spoonfuls of whiskey, covered him up 
and with a few cheery words, left him to the care of a 
watchman. 

Others, severely injured, were brought in from the 
wreck; and, for hours, the doctor was kept busy, bind- 
ing the torn and bleeding flesh and setting fractured 
limbs. 

Several poor creatures lived only a few moments; 
others quieted down graduall}^, after their wounds had 
been dressed, and dropped off into a heavy slumber, 
in spite of the dreadful turmoil around, and of the dire 
perils that still threatened them. 

When all had been extricated — dead or alive — from 
this enormous pile of debris, our two friends, officers 
Rowan and Bird, returned to the central office, and 
there remained until morning, helping to relieve the 
sufferings of the belated, bruised or wounded, refugees 
who sought the station for shelter. All night long the 
tempest raged like a caged lion, and all night long 


ON TO THE STRAND! 


Ill 


these two faithful men, without one moment of sleep, 
Worked to relieve the sufferers. 

When daylig'ht came, peeping in cautiously, like a 
scared child, afraid to trust herself to the care of a world 
through which such a monster had ridden, these stout- 
hearted guardians of the public peace and security started 
out to brave the wind and water to their own homes, 
which they had left, the morning before, proud and 
confident, with the kisses of their babes and wives wann 
on their lips. 

They both hoped for the best, yet they feared the 
worst. 

At ten o’clock, the two valiant fellows reported for 
duty, and saluting the chief, said with tears streaming 
down their brouzed faces: 

“We have been home, sir, everything is gone! wife, 
babies — all!” 


CHAPTER X 


ALONE ON THE SEA 

Arthur Stokes was just breathing a prayer that if they 
were lost, he might be allowed to meet his Maker with 
his darling in his arms, when the improvised raft they 
were on was smashed to pieces by a mountain of debris, 
and he was ruthlessly snatched from her side. 

When he came to himself he was lying, face down, 
on a window frame, and the broken glass in it was 
hacking his body in a dozen or more places. He had 
no idea where he was; by what freak of wind and wave 
he had been thrown there; or how long he had been 
lying in that position. No remembrance remained to 
him of his coming up out of the briny deep; but the 
trip downward, at least part of it was indelibly impressed 
Upon his memory. 

As he went dovm and down and down into the sea 
trough he thought it would never be possible for the 
waves to toss him up again. He believed he would sink 
until he touched the bottom of the sea. 

‘T would not mind it so much,” he remembered his 
last thought to have been, 'hf Mary and I could have 
perished together, as we are both lost anyway!” 

When he forind himself v/recked on the window-sill, 
his face downward, torn and bleeding, it was difficult for 
( 112 ) 


113 


ALONE ON THE SEA 

liini to realize that he had not passed through the 
mysterious state called death. 

He was by nature very religiously inclined, so his first 
words were reverently addressed to the Almighty: 

“O Lord!” he cried, “if I have passed through the 
river Jordan, tell me what service I may perform for 
thee!” Then suddenly he came to himself again, and 
realized that he was still on earth and in dire peril. 

On and on, the foam-crested billows, like immense 
mountains tipped with snow, tossed him up and out, 
further and further, in the midst of the waters of the 
Gulf, away from the shore; away from those whom he 
loved; away from Mary! 

In the midst of this terrible experience on the storm 
wipped waves, the wind driving at such a fearful rate, 
Arthur dared not open his mouth for fear he would lose 
his breath; and yet, in his inmost heart, he rejoiced 
divinely in the belief that Mary loved him still. 

Rendered unconscious again, by another frightful 
shock from passing wreckage, he knew nothing more 
until some debris crushed into the window frame that 
kept him above water like a safety buoy; then he opened 
his eyes and saw a faint streak of light in the east and 
he knew the morning was breaking. 

A huge snake, dark and slimy, lay on the opposite 
side of the frail raft, and when the first gleam of light 
touched it, the reptile raised its big flat head and fixed 
its glassy eyes upon Arthur Stokes. 

The poor man now felt so weak and faint, that the 
mere thought ‘that this great serpent might crawl over 


114 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


to him made him sick and dizzy and only an extraordi- 
nary effort allowed him to keep his hold on the window 
frame. 

The snake read the fear in his eyes and doubtless 
thought 'he would have an easy victim; so, it started 
toward him crawling cautiously around the fragile piece 
of wood. 

It was not enough that Arthur should be out in the 
open sea since six-thirty, the evening before, tossed by 
the angry waves here and there, and barely surviving 
the ordeal of this horrible night, clinging vice-like to a 
frail window frame — no, such agony was not enough. 
Now that daylight had come and been heralded with 
delight, he must be tortured with the fear of being 
bitten by this deadly monster, and his heart sank within 
him. 

As the slimy creature crawled toward him — he moved 
away from it, feeling all the time that his strength would 
soon be gone and at last he would be at its mercy. This 
play of 'catch-me-if-you-can’ had lasted only a few 
seconds, when Arthur’s strength gave up; he could move 
no further. It cosLhim the effort of his life not to let 
go his grasp on the wood frame. The snake divined 
the exhaustion of his chance companion and doomed 
victim and when about a foot from Arthur’s left hand, 
it made a dash at him and stung him on the back of the 
hand. 

But in making this vicious dart the huge reptile had 
made a miscalculation, for he lost his balance and 
plunged hissing into the sea. 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


115 


Fainter and sicker, and weaker than ever, Stokes was 
now barely able to keep his head above the water. Half 
dazed though he felt, -he still was gazing intently about 
for a chance to take hold of a larger and stronger float- 
ing wreck to use as an improvised raft. A piece of 
timber, that rushed within reach, seemed stout enough 
to be used for the purpose, so he made a movement to 
cling to it. Then — to his horror — he saw what he 
thought the cold white hand of a dead person, which was 
caught in the raft, while, doubtless, the corpse itself 
was dragged along underneath the beam. He was near 
enough to touch it with his hand. And he thought if 
he could push off the weight of the dead body he would 
use for his own this floating refuge, which he felt had 
sufficient strength to keep him afloat, until rescued. 

His right arm he could not lift. Why, he did not know, 
unless it was dumb with cold. He tried to rub this 
numb member with his left hand. It was also almost 
lifeless and he experienced much difficulty as well as 
pain in getting it across his body and up to his right 
shoulder. As he did so, he said to himself: 

'Tf only I can get the numbness out of -this arm, I 
can push the poor fellow’s hand away, and if possible, 
get astride this big piece of timber. I believe it will hold 
my weight. Then, if I can muster strength enough to 
hold on until rescued — What then? Life will be a 
hollow mockery now that my Mary, just recovered, is 
lost again! But, what if she, like myself, should be 
miraculously saved! Oh, that thought is too good to 
be true! Alive she may be, though maimed for life. Then 


lid 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


she will need me more than ever. Oh! I must live, I 
will live! But, first of all, I have to move that dead 
hand away! What difference can it make if I push it 
off, since its owner is already lifeless — and I must lighten 
the burden this raft carries, and live for Mary!” 

Buoyed up by returned hope, and yet half crazy with 
the horror of the situation, Arthur Stokes made a grand 
exertion to lift his right arm, that he might push this 
cold, white hand so near him away, and do<wnward. 

He had hardly reached his goal, when to his intense 
astonishment and terror, he realized that the hand he 
believed belonged to a body under the raft, long since 
cold in death, was his own, apparently lifeless right hand, 
held fast in a crack of this piece of lumber. 

Then he -realized that his left arm was broken in two 
places and he was powerless to move it. Thus he floated 
between the two rafts, one hand on either of them, totally 
unable to do anything to help his own rescue. 

It was hard for him to believe the sights his eyes gazed 
at, as the light from the rising sun grew brighter. 

Mixed with the wreckage that constantly bumped 
against his rafts, were countless dead bodies, black and 
white, young and old, male and female. 

The sight was sickening and Arthur’s heart grew 
fainter and fainter. 

'‘My poor Mary!” he cried, in mortal anguish, "if she 
is amongst these unfortunates I cannot survive her!” 

The poor storm-tossed creature closed his eyes and 
tried to shut out from view the heart-rending scenes 
before him. He floated on and on, surrounded by these 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


117 


gruesome sights and little little all hope of being 
rescued abandoned him. 

Suddenly, the cry of: “Help, help!” sent the blood 
tingling through his veins. It was a piteous plea for 
succor, but that meant much to him, for it was the first 
human voice he had heard for hours! 

Opening his eyes once more to the scene around him, 
he discovered two being« on a raft close by — a boy 
about fifteen years old and a wee little girl in the rags 
of a night gown. 

The boy had evidently just awakened from a spell of 
exhaustion, and discovered he had a companion; the 
cry for help, he had shouted as much for her sake as 
for his. 

As Arthur Stokes discovered the boy, he was taking 
off his water-soaked and wind-torn coat and tenderly 
wrapping it around the chilled limbs of the child. 

Deeply touched by the incident, Arthur Stokes noticed 
that the lad used only one arm in taking off his coat 
and in placing it around the girl; the other limb hung 
limp and lifeless by his side. 

“Poor boy,” thought Stokes, “he also has a broken 
arm; like myself, he has been crippled by this awful 
storm.” 

As the two rafts came nearer, he wanted to talk to the 
boy, to ask if he was very badly injured and if the little 
girl, stretched there motionless, was still alive; but when 
he tried to speak aloud he could not utter a word. 

His throat and mouth were so hot and parched, and 
his tongue so swollen that they refused to do their duty. 


118 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


It was well for his sanity that another cry for help 
just then arose appealingly, as it took his thoughts away 
from his horrible condition. This time the cry had come 
from a house some distance away, which had been 
wrenched from its foundation and was now floating about 
in a dilapidated condition. He could see no one in or 
on it but the cries for help, and the moans and groans 
that issued from its interior were so heartrending, that 
poor Arthur, maimed and helpless as he was, felt beside 
himself in the consciousness of his incapacity. 

The hour, as near as he could guess, was now close to 
six o’clock; and yet there was no boat around to bring 
succor to all these unfortunate victims, whose lives were 
still burning feebly within their crippled bodies. The 
sea had quieted down, and, in the bright morning sky. 
there was nothing to tell of the monstrous storm, which, 
but a few hours ago, had ridden, with brutal intensity, 
over joyous hearts, over bounteous fields, over confident 
and proud cities, over Galveston and its beauty, wealth 
and progress — ^leaving behind thousonds of dead bodies, 
mountains of debris, and great stretches of country 
swept bare, without a sign remaining, to tell of their 
former inmates and their homes. 

Dead men, women, children, nude or half-clothed, 

floated on all sides, some headless, some legless, some 
armless — 

What was this uncanny black thing, now swept by 
the ebbing tide toward Arthur? Part of the dead body 
of an old negress; the lower-limbs were gone, gaping 
wounds on trunk and head completed the ghastly tale. 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


119 


He held his breath and, in inexplicable curiosity, 
stretched his neck to survey the disfigured remains. 
They lodged against his raft; he could not see the face, 
it was downward bent. An unconquerable desire took 
possession of him to see that face. 

The best he could, he pushed his raft against the body, 
and the waves turned it over. 

“Lord in heaven!” he cried, his voice hoarse and in- 
distinct. “It is Lucinda Stokes! How strangely calm 
and serene in death is her mutilated face!” 

Until then, through the frightful agony of this night 
of torture he had not given a thought to his old 
“mammy,” to her terrible prophecy! Now the whole 
scene was before him as it had taken place on the after- 
noon of the preceding Friday — just two days ago! 

“And poor George, has he met the fate she proph- 
esied?” he added, silently. And for the first time, Arthur 
Stokes reproached himself bitterly for leaving the secure 
shelter of the Tremont hotel and going out in his mad 
search for Mary. Most of all, he reproached himself for 
allowing his friend to accompany him. 

The uncanny sight of the old woman’s body soon 
vanished amid the surging waves. Following it imme^ 
diatdy, a large, friendly-looking dog floated by on the 
roof of some ruined house. It stood guard over the 
body of a dead child, barking for help for his little friend. 
In its wake, and all around Arthur Stokes clinging to 
his pieces of wreckage, floated promiscuously all sorts 
and conditions of human victims and dead animals. Even 


m 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


tiny birds, lifeless in their pretty cages, followed In the 
current and formed a part of the long funeral train. 

“George, George!” repeated Arthur Stokes, his soul 
torn asunder by remorse, “forgive me for taking you 
out in the tempest to meet your death! I was mad with 
fear for Mary’s safety ! It was my selfishness that caused 
it all. Forgive me, forgive me!” 

The poor fellow, in his piteous mental and physical 
plight could only commune with himself and his God. 
He could utter no loud appeal for help; his tears were 
dried and his heart was burning within him, in his 
desperate anguish. 

Not far distant to the north, in the very direction his 
raft was drifting, stood a two story frame house which, 
in 9omg miraculous way, had remained firm on its 
foundations, during the awful flood and wind that raged 
for twelve hours. Its fence and piazza, broken all to 
pieces, were piled up against the main building; but a 
small fancy porch in front of an open window was just 
on top of the debris; thereon stood a young Jersey cow, 
bellowing for help, for she cQuld not take one step more, 
either way, without falling into deep water. 

To that very spot, Arthur Stokes’ raft floated on. There 
came a wild look in .the young man’s eyes as he realized, 
in a flash, that, to save himself, he would have to push 
the animal away and take the patient creature’s place 
on the pile of rubbish. 

It was the only point over which he could enter the 
house, if only he could raise strength enough to climb 
on the dilapidated porch. 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


121 


First, with his shoulders he manag-ed to push the 
co\v’s feet away and, splash, she went into the water, 
over and above her head. It was a mean thing to do, 
he knew, but he must save his own life now at any cost. 

Had his raft not been so close to the floor of the 
porch, he could not have climbed onto it; as it was, he 
did so with much difficulty, his legs almost refusing to 
act, and only one of his arms moving at all. But a 
mighty effort landed him out of the water and on the 
pile of debris. 

Forthwith he dragged himself into the house, and he 
began visiting room after room in search of water. If 
he only could get some water to drink he thought he 
might live. 

The house seemed absolutely empty, but on the second 
floor, his desperate quest proved successful, for, at last 
the bathroom was found and he sprang toward the bath- 
tub faucet, crazed with delight, but what was his horror 
when he realized that he could not muster strength 
enough to turn the faucet; for his right arm was broken 
and his left hand swollen and seemingly paralyzed by the 
serpenBs vicious bite. He thought of his teeth ; maybe 
they could perform that service for him; but no, that 
was imp>ossible. His swoolen tongue would not admit 
the handle into his mouth. .. Then he said: ‘‘My toes 
must perform the duty my hands refuse me.” 

By strange luck, the events of the night had torn away 
shoes and socks and his feet were bare. He climbed 
into the tub— and with the toes of his right foot, turned 
the faucet. When the water began to run, the poor 


122 


ALONE ON THE SEA 


fellow, beside himself with pain and want fell foiward 
and lapped it like a dogf. When he had drunk his fill 
he had just strength and presence of mind enoug’h to 
turn the water off. Then his head began to feel so light 
and dizzy, that he laid down in the tub too weak to get 
out; and as he was losing consciousness, he heard the 
little Jersey’s bellow; he cried: 

“Thank God, I did not kill the cow!” Then he fainted 
dead away. 



“We have been home, " said the brave officers, “everything is gone — 
wife — babies — all I ” 



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CHAPTER XI 


Adolfo’s deeds of heroism 

“Have no fear — Fll save you — ” said the boy; and 
he held the little girl close to him, as they went down 
with the crashing timbers into the water below. 

The child clung frantically but no sound escaped her 
lips. 

When the first awfulness of the collapse of the house 
was over, the brave . lad found that they were on a 
mattress and springs, to w‘hich the mattress seemed to 
be securely fastened, but they were almost entirely cov- 
ered with fragments of wreckage. 

“Are you hurt?” the young fellow asked, drawing the 
child to him. 

“No,” she replied, putting her little arm around his 
neck. “I love you,” she continued; “because you saved 
me and aunty; but where is aunty?” 

“I hope she is near us,” he answered, with an effort. 

“If my aunty and mamma and papa are all gone to 
heaven, I shall have to live with you, won’t I? Please 
tell me your name.” 

The brave boy put his mouth close to the child’s ear 
and said: 

“If anything so terrible happens, yes indeed, you will 
live with me, dear. My name is Adolfo Biondi, call me 

( 125 ) 


126 


ADOLFO'S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


Adolfo. I will take care of my little girl/’ he bravely 
added, not without a tremor in his voice. 

“My name is Isabelle,” was the quick rejoinder, the 
child’s spirits still undaunted ; “but I am a big girl — don’t 
call me little.” 

“All right, Isabelle,” replied Adolfo, as he pressed 
his lips to her forehead. “Now you must help me by 
holding on tight while I try and see if there is any- 
thing. around likely to fall on us.” 

“We are on a nice bed, and I am sleepy,” Isabelle said, 
stretching herself out. “Adolfo, can’t I sleep.” 

“No, dear child, no, you must not sleep. If you do 
you won’t be able to help me. Look, what is that com- 
ing tow'ard us?” 

“I can’t see, it’s so dark. Is it a bogie-man, Adolfo?” 

“There is no such thing as a bogie-man, child, but this 
night is filled with terrible demons, and we must keep 
awake and be brave or they will drown us.” 

The child remained silent and watched round her. 

They were comparatively sheltered from both the wind 
and the torrents of rain. What seemed to be the roof 
of a house had lodged against something over them, 
thus forming a protection, at least a partial protection, 
from the fierce gale now blowing from the east of south. 

Adolfo took in the situation at”a glance, and realized 
that if this roof should fall from the place where it had 
been wedged in, they would surely be crushed to death, 
being directly under its beams. So he determined 
to reach the southeastern end of their shelter, if possible, 
before the imminent collapse should take place. He 


ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


127 


stuck the end of the strong pole he had succeeded in 
holding on to during his varied experience of the night, 
against a large timber to the south and pushed with all 
his might. Tlie light raft on which they were seated 
moved out from under their shelter, and not a moment 
too soon either, for Typhon pounced down upon that 
very spot in all his fury, and as Adolfo looked back, 
he saw that they had just escaped from the jaws of death. 

The rescuer and his little charge were now drifting 
away from under any cover, exposed to the wind in all 
its fury; to the torrents of rain from above; to the angry 
waves around them; to hundreds of broken pieces of 
slate from the roofs — the most deadly weapons imagin- 
able — and to countless other objects, of all sizes, con- 
stantly surging around them, and bumping against their 
frail raft. 

‘Tt must be nearly morning,” thought Adolfo. ‘Tt 
seems an eternity since darkness. began!” 

“Where are we now?” asked Isabelle in a sleepy, ex- 
hausted treble, as she nestled close under Adolfo’s arms 
— his coat drawn tightly around her. 

“Adolfo cannot tell you, dearie,” replied the boy 
evasively, “but,” he added, “I think we are being carried 
out into the Bay. If we are, there will not be so much 
danger of our being crushed by one of these wrecks.” 

If the child heard him she made no reply; he thought: 

“Our mattress is getting soaked and I am afraid it 
will soon sink, with us added to its increasing weight. 
What can I do, what can I do? We would be safer 
on the springs alone. But can I get the mattress off? 


128 


ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


Perhaps, if I succeed, we may be able to survive until 
help reaches us. Poor little g’irl! I am afraid she may 
have to join her aunty after all! Isabelle? Isabelle what? 
Why, I do not even know the sweet child’s- other name! 
I must find out for — for — if — she should be snatched 
out of my arms and — Oh, I cannot bear to think of it!” 
Then he said: “Dear, tell Adolfo your other name, 
won’t you! Do you hear me? Oh, dear, dear, I told you 
you must not sleep! Your other name, child, your other 
name.” 

“The same as aunty,” replied the child. 

“And aunty’s name, what is it?” 

“It is funny you do not know my Aunt Mary’s name,” 
was the childish reply. 

“Tell Adolfo, dearie, tell him what is aunty’s name.” 

Before the child could reply, some monstrous object 
struck them with tremendous force, knocked them ofiP 
their raft, and the little ^irl was torn from Adolfo’s arms. 

In a moment he was above water again and he felt 
the sharp edges of a roof. He climibed onto it. As he 
gazed into the darkness he cried out in despair: “Isa- 
belle, my poor little girl is gone!” 

A mountain of white foam dashed against the slanting 
roof and carried up with it something that resembled a 
human being. A ray of hope shot through Adolfo’s 
heart and in a loud voice he cried: “Isabelle!” The 
object was but a few feet below him, so, quick as a 
flash, he reached down and took hold of it. 

“It is a child!” he cried out, “but is it Isabelle?” 


ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


129 


Just then the word: “Adolfo” escaped the child’s lips, 
and he knew his chargee was once more in his care. 

“She shall never leave my arms a^ain,” he exclaimed, 
“I did not hold her tight enough before.” 

The girlie had evidently lost consciousness or had fallen 
into a deep slumber, for no further sound did she utter. 
Adolfo put his hand over her heart and its even move- 
ments told him that she was sleeping. The lad thought: 

“A sound sleep will give her strength to help brave 
the storm, although it makes it harder for me to hold 
her.” 

A careful, examination of their whereabouts convinced 
Adolfo that they were being driven across the Bay; but, 
to more fully satisfy himself on that point, he dipped 
a handful of water and put it to his lips. 

“It is as I expected,” he said to himself, “we are on 
the Bay ; and if daylight would only come I feel we should 
be rescued!” 

One, two, three, four hours elapsed, before even a 
faint light appeared on the horizon. 

By that time, Adolfo and his little charge had been 
asleep or unconscious for hours. When the boy awoke 
his first thought was — “Isabelle!” 

They were both lying face down, the child’s feet firmly 
and yet not painfully wedged into a hole in the roof. 
Adolfo’s legs had likewise luckily sunk through the same 
opening and his feet rested on some timbers further 
down, while both his arms were closely clasped around 
the child, and his other precious treasure, the long 


130 


ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


pole — from the end of it fluttered in the wind a long 
and badly torn piece of bunting. 

■ Had they not unconsciously dropped into that posi- 
tion, the rescuer and the rescued would have fallen off 
their raft, and would have been floating, dead, upon the 
waters of the Bay'. 

With the first faint streak of lig'ht, a new hope sprang 
up in Adolfo’s bosom of being rescued by some passing 
boat, or, at least, of being able, himself, to reach a place 
of safety. 

He thought with horror that they might be driven 
farther and farther on the waters of the Gulf, where all 
chances of surviving would vanish. 

And sure enough, they were being carried that way 
and he soon realized that they were again floating upon 
that great body of water. All of a sudden, they were 
switched into a swift inrunning current and pushed along 
by the debris toward the shore. 

“There is not much danger now,” thought Adolfo, 
“of our being carried out again into the Gulf, and where 
we noiw are with all these wrecked houses between us 
and the open sea, we are pretty sure to be saved.” 

Delighted with the thought, he cried: 

“Isabelle, Isabelle!” 

The child opened her eyes and answered, in a dazed 
sort of way: 

“I will be up in a moment, aunty.” 

“Dear me,” thought the boy, lifting up the little girl’s 
head, “dear me, I wonder if she has lost her mind! 
Isabelle, Isabelle,” he frantically repeated. 


ADOLFO’S, DEEDS OF FIEROISM 


131 


'‘This is not Aunt IMary, it is Adolfo.” 

The child rubbed her eyes with a chubby fist and 
smiling up into the lad’s face, answered in a clear voice: 
‘‘Yes, Adolfo, he saved me.” The little girl’s brain was 
sound as a bell. 

As near as Adolfo could reckon, it was then about 
five o’clock in the morning. The storm had almost sub- 
sided and the guilty waters were fast rushing back into 
the Gulf. And they left behind them the most extra- 
ordinar}?" scene of destruction. 

But after living through this awful night, Adolfo felt 
that the future could contain no such terror for him. 

* “Isn’t it strange,” he asked himself aloud, “that amid 
all this fearful wreckage there is no sign of life? What if, 
in this big world, no one were left but Isabelle and me?” 

“But aunty is alive, Adolfo,” affirmed Isabelle. 

“How do you know, child?” 

“(^d told me,” she replied, “when I was asleep.” 
The girlie’s faith was touching and inspiring. “Then I 
shall live with you and aunty,” she added, nestling closer 
to her savior. 

Adolfo could not refrain asking: 

“Then what will mamma and papa do without their 
little girl?” 

“They do not need any little girl, now,” quickly replied 
Isabelle, “for they are with God.” 

As Adolfo was wondering whether the child really 
knew, she cried excitedly: 

“O, look, Adolfo, look, here comes a woman floating 


132 ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROlSAi 

toward us; she holds on to a board. It’s my Aunt Mary 
— I tell you it’s my darling aunty — 

Sure enough, there was a woman with blanched face 
and streaming hair, kept above water by a fragment of 
wreckage. She was so close now, that Adolfo could 
make himself heard as he cried to her: 

“Hold on a moment longer and I will save you.” 

He placed Isabelle further down into the hole in the 
roof — a place where he felt sure she would be out of 
harm’s way for a few minutes. Then taking his precious, 
long flag-pole, only a remnant of the flag now attached to 
it, he climbed over the roof as far as he could without 
endangering too much his own safety, and calling words 
of cheer to the storm-tossed woman, he stretched the 
pole toward her and she eagerly grasped it. 

“You are saved!” Adolfo cried. 

He securely tied the other end of the pole to a pro- 
jecting rafter by means of a rope he had arcmud^iis 
body; then climbing down to the edge of the roof, 
pulled the pole and the woman with it up to the top of 
the wrecked house. By a herculean effort the woman 
caught onto a window-sill close by, and from there, with 
the assistance of Adolfo, she climbed onto the roof, 
ere she fell forward in a dead faint. 

The valiant and clever lad secured her from rolling 
off by putting her lower limbs into the same hole with 
his little ward. 

“Hold the lady, Isabelle,” he shouted, '‘you must help 
Adolfo, hold her tightly, for she is yet alive.” 


ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


133 


‘‘It is my Aunt Mary!” cried the delighted child, as 
she climbed up and caressed fondly the inanimate form 
of the rescued woman. 

Adolfo lost no time hoisting his rope up and up — but 
when the end came in sight, behold, his flag-pole was 
gone. With a look of intense sadness on his face he 
looked around him for it, and when he discovered it 
floating, a short distance away, he cried: “Hold onto 
your aunty, Isabelle. Adolfo will be back in a minute.” 

And before the child could realize his meaning, he 
kad slipped down to the edge of the roof and jumped 
into the water. 

Round and round he swam, searching after something 
Isabelle knew nothing of. She could only cry, in fright- 
ened dismay: 

“Look, aunty! Look! Adolfo is out in the water, 
we must rescue him.” Her aunt made no reply, as she 
had not recovered consciousness. 

“Fve got it, IVe got it,” a happy voice shouted to 
the child, and Isabelle beheld Adolfo’s beaming face and 
his hand holding the beloved flag-pole high above his 
head. 

He, swam quickly back and in a few moments was 
again on the roof. 

“Oh, Fve got it back,” he cried exultingly, “this my 
greatest, my only treasure!” 

“What is it?” asked Mary Phelps — awakening from 
■her trance and speaking with much efifort. 

“What is it?” repeated Adolfo, in surprise. “What 


134 


ADOLFO’S DEEDS OF HEROISM 


is it? Why it is our regimental flag. That is all I saved 
when the colonel’s house went down.” 

“And who are you?” asked Mary. 

“Why, I am just Adolfo Biondi,” replied the boy. 


CHAPTER XII 


HOMELESS 

'‘Adolfo Biondi/' repeated Mary Phelps, “I have heard 
that name before, but where ?’^ • 

“Don’t youdcnow Adolfo, aunty? I know him — I love 
him — he saved me. But mamma and papa, where are 
they?” 

“Let us not speak of them just now, child. We must 
hope they are both saved, like ourselves.” Then, turning 
to the lad, she added, with much feeling: “So you are 
the young fellow who lived with Colonel McCaleb, and 
went to Cuba during the war? I have heard of you 
before, Adolfo Biondi, you have proved yourself a brave 
boy; but I do not wonder at your deeds during this 
storm since I know your war record.” 

Mary Phelps was still very weak from exposure and 
anguish, and she had to stop speaking, while her head 
drooped in a sort of half-faint. 

Around them, the water was falling very rapidly, and 
Adolfo kept on the lookout for a house that had not 
been destroyed, in hopes of getting to it and discovering 
there some food and drink. 

“Shall we always live on the top of a house?” asked 
Isabelle, in her babyish way; “I don’t think it’s very 
nice. There is nothing to eat and no place to play/’ 
( 186 ) 


136 


HOMELESS 


'‘No Isabelle, we are g'oin^ to leave this very soon. 
See that house across the street?” 

“Yes. Is this your home Adolfo?” 

“We will call it ours,” the boy replied, “at least for 
a time, if we can only g'et there.” 

The current, though not very strong, carried them in 
that direction and very soon only a pile of debris lay 
between them and this possible haven of security, rest 
and material assistance. 

It was a most difficult feat for a lad of Adolfo’s age 
and size, to safely transfer a little child and an exhausted 
woman from the top of a slanting roof, across a huge 
pile of debris, into a house, the first floor of which must 
have been entirely filled with water, since there were 
over two feet of water on the floor above. 

Luckily the top of the pile of debris was level with a 
second floor window, and through it, Adolfo carried little 
Isabelle, returning to assist Mary Phelps climb over this 
mountain of wreckage. 

For the first time since the lad had met his little ward, 
Isabelle’s strength seemed to give way; and as the room 
they entered first happened to be a sleeping room he laid 
her on the bed, where he removed his own jacket, she 
had now worn twelve hours, over her own torn and 
soaked garments, wrapping her in a woollen blanket. 

“And now. Miss Phelps, you take off your wet clothes 
while I search the house for something to eat,” said 
Adolfo. 

With much exertion, Arthur’s lost sweetheart removed 
her tattered clothes, put on a warm red wrapper she 


HOMELESS 


137 


found hanging in an open wardrobe and was soon sleep- 
ing the sleep of utter exhaustion by the side of her little 
niece. 

Adolfo Biondi was fortunate in finding in an adjoin- 
ing appartment some food, placed there by the late occu- 
pants whom terror had driven out of their house. 

When Adolfo returned to the room where he had left 
his friends, they were sleeping soundly. 

After enjoying heartily some of the eatables, he 
stretched himself on the floor, and was fast asleep 
in less time than it takes to tell it. An hour later, he 
awoke with a start, feeling very guilty that sleep had 
thus taken him unawares. 

“I’ll wake my people,” he said to himself, “and 
after they have .eaten, they can go to sleep again and 
I’ll fetch a doctor to set my arm and to attend to 
Isabelle’s aunt; the little girl, I think, is O. K.” 

He had some trouble in arousing them, but after he 
had succeeded, they sat up in bed and ate ravenously 
of the food he brought to them. 

“Sleep and food is all you need,” said Adolfo, en- 
couragingly, “I wish I had some one to stay with you 
while I go for a!*doctor. I’m going to make a round of 
the house, though, before I leave you;” then he added, 
“I am going out to be gone an hour or so. Miss Phelps. 
I want to see if I can hear anything of your folks and 
get someone to come here to help us out.” 

Adolfo avoided saying that he wanted to find a doctor, 
because he was afraid they might think themselves worse 
hurt than they really were. 


138 


HOMELESS 


Isabelle already dozing away, after swallowing a last 
morsel of food, cried out to him, in a sleepy voice: 

“Adolfo will come back quick for his Isabelle and 
Aunt Mary. I’ll sleep while you are gone.” 

Greatly affected by the child’s pathetic entreaty, the 
lad walked to the bedside, and kissing the little girl 
assured her that he would come back for them as soon 
as he possibly could. 

Mary Phelps was visibly affected by the boy’s heroic 
deeds and his gentle treatment of them, but no tears 
fell from her eyes — her grief was too great. 

She thought of her dear uncle, and aunt, the only true 
friends she had had on earth ; of the heartrending scream 
her aunt had uttered when their house went down with 
such terrific suddenness. Alas! she could not help be- 
lieving, in her heart, that the dear people were gone 
from daughter and niece — ^forever. 

And then Mary’s troubled thoughts turned to the two 
brave men who had held onto her at the risk of their 
own lives, in the hour of her crucial peril. 

One was a complete stranger to her, but he was a 
friend of — of Arthur, and with indefatigable intrepidity, 
he struggled to save them after Arthur had vanished 
under the waves. 

“Poor, poor, Arthur!” she finally murmured to herself, 
in the anguish of her tortured soul, “how happy we 
might have been, all these long, long years, if — if some 
evil spirit had not kept us apart by its devilish plotting. 
I feel now that I have lost you forever, my darling, my 
own — that all that separated us was nothing but wicked 


HOMELESS 


139 


and treacherous lies — and now — now it is too late — too 
late.” 

Adolfo, noticing the look of intense pain on the lady’s 
face, just as he was about leaving the room, came back 
close to her and said, as if his kind heart had guessed 
her dark thoughts: 

‘‘Miss Phelps, be brave and keep up hope a little longer. 
If your friends are all gone, I will see to it that you and 
this beautiful child never ’want for anything.” 

Mary Phelps arose and putting her arm around the 
lad said: 

“You are a dear, good boy and so long as life lasts 
we shall never part. Go, now, and I will keep up my 
courage and watch' over the little one until you return. 
Oh! how I wish I could accompany you!” 

“Good-bye, I am gone,” cried the lad, and with an 
anxious look on his face he left the room. 

Left to her own devices, and physically much refreshed 
by sleep and food, Mary Phelps began walking .the floor 
nervously, only stopping now and then to gaze out of 
the window at the frightful wreckage around the place 
— 'the extent of which she could hardly realize. 

Everything was so strange! Not one familiar object 
could she see; nor even form an idea of the part of the 
city she was in. 

“Oh, Arthur, Arthur,” she cried, “if we only could 
have understood each other before this fearful disaster, 
my anguish would not be so hard to bear! All through 
the raging of TlTe storm, after those I love had been 
swept from my sight, I found myself asking: ‘Is there 


140 


HOMELESS 


a God!’ I answer now: 'No, no, there is no God/ If 
there is a God and He caused the fearful destruction 
of last night, He is not the loving Father I have been 
taught from childhood to believe Him. No, He cannot 
be full of love and pity for His own creatures if He 
wrought this catastrophe I” 

No sign of life could she discover or hear around her, 
and her heart grew fainter, as the awful thought came 
to her that Isabelle had voiced: "What if no one is 
left but us three!” 

Half-crazed by the thought, she left the window and 
threw herself down on the bed by Isabelle’s side, not to 
weep, but groan, in tortured desolation. 

The anguish in her soul was too great for tears — there 
seemed to be no relief whatever for her. Up to that 
moment, she had been in ignorance of her broken arm 
and her otherwise bruised body. Suddenly, a frightful 
pain shot through her left side and shoulder, but, until 
she attempted to raise her left hand to her side, she was 
wholly unaware of the extent of her physical injuries. 

How long the arm had been dislocated, she had no 
idea. The pain was getting more and more intense, and 
she felt that unless she got some relief she would fall 
into a dead swoon. 

She removed the sleeve from the broken limb, and 
tearing one of the pillow-cases in strips she prepared 
to bind , it. 

"I shall have to wake poor tired Isabelle,” she thought 
remorsefully — for there was not a selfish fiber in her 
whole body and soul — "and get her to help me: I must 


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HOMELESS 


143 


try and set my arm, in a way; I know how and could 
do it if I had another hand to assist me, even that of a 
child.” 

Isabelle was not easily aroused, but when told that she 
must wake up and help aunty, she made a courageous 
effort and rubbing her eyes, she jumped on the floor. 

And when Mary had made the child understand just 
what she wanted her to do; where to pull the arm and 
where to put the cloth with which it was to be bound 
and how to hold the pieces of pasteboard she had torn 
from an empty box found in the closet, the two together 
—aunt and niece — managed to do a surprisingly nice job 
of setting and binding the broken arm. It was tedious 
and very painful work, but at last it was finished and 
the bandaged limb was finally hung in a sling made out 
of a large bath towel. 

As Mary Phelps, whose grit, all through this cruel 
ordeal had been simply splendid, was able to stretch 
herself on the bed, she felt exhaustion coming over her, 
and as she said to her brave little nurse, “The camphor, 
Isabelle, the camphor — there — on the dresser,” she 
fainted away, from pain, weakness and grief. 

But, Isabelle did not lose her head in this grave emer- 
gency. She had seen her mother and aunty bathe their 
faces in camphor-water and inhale it, and so the thought- 
ful child poured some in her tiny hand and rubbed it 
on her aunt’s pale features, at the same time, holding 
the bottle to her nose. The blood rushed back to Mary 
Phelps’ face; she gasped for breath and opening her 
eyes was able to say: “Aunty will now sleep, dear.” 


144 


HOMELESS 


“I saved aunty,” cried Isabelle proudly, “now I must 
watch over her until Adolfo comes back.” 

And the brave child seated herself by her aunt’s bed- 
side for what was to be a long- spell of faithful watching 
She did not know that just as her aunt had fallen 
into a refreshing sleep Adolfo had looked into the room, 
and seeing everything peaceful and apparently safe, had 
hurried out on the errand for the performance of which 
he had left the house more than an hour ago. Here 
was the cause of this unforeseen delay. 

On making an inspection of the house to see- what 
he could find out about the inmates, the lad, to his 
great surprise, had discovered, in the bath tub, a man, 
almost in a dying condition. If his face had been turned 
down instead of up, nothing could have saved the un- 
fortunate from drowning in the few inches of water at 
the bottom of the tub. But how to get him out of this 
awkward predicahient was a question hard for Adolfo 
to solve. 

' A large ironing-board stood behind the bathroom 
door; and the ingenious boy used it to pry the body up, 
as with a lever. With a herculean effort he lifted the 
heavy body onto the floor. 

A groan escaped the unconscious form and Adolfo 
knew that the man lived. His first thought was to give 
him water and food. He raised the head, and placed 
a half-full glass to the parched lips, but it was with a 
visible effort that the rescued man swallowed a few 
drops of the beverage. Encouraged by this first, partial 
success, Adolfo now tried to restore his new friend to 


HOMELESS 


145 


full consciousness. Rapidly he removed the poor fellow’s 
water soaked and ragged clothing, and began rubbing 
his cold, stiff limbs vigorously, now and then Stopping 
to pour a few more drops of water into the badly swoolen 
mouth and throat. 

After half an hour of heroic work, the lad’s devotion 
was rewarded; for the man opened his eyes and looked 
around him in a wondering manner: “Ah,” Adolfo 
heard him whisper, “I remember now, I was in that 
awful storm.” 

“Yes, we all were in it,” answered Adolfo, “and are 
well out of it now,” and he added: “Do you think you 
could eat a little food, sir?” 

“Did you say food — food — boy?” cried the half crazed 
man, in a hoarse, unnatural voice. “Great God, am I 
to have food once more.” 

“Yes,” answered Adolfo, hardly able to keep back his 
tears; “here it is, you must try to eat a little.” 

“More water,” cried the man, still half beside himself, 
“more water!” 

Adolfo placed a glass full of cold water to his lips, 
and this time, with scarcely an effort the man swallowed 
it all. 

“Food, food,” he now cried fretfully. 

Adolfo was compelled to take the food to the hunger- 
crazed man’s mouth, for both his arms seemed injured, 
as they hung limp and lifeless. 

^‘Now, if I could get warm and go to sleep I might 
live,” sighed the man, who did not seem to realize yet 


146 


HOMELESS 


the true state of affairs and the kindness he was the 
object of. 

Adolfo draggled a mattress from a bedroom close by 
into the wide bathroom; gently stretched the injured 
man upon it, and wrapped him snugly in thick blankets. 

“That is good, that is good,” repeated the poor fellow, 
in a dazed sort of way, “now I can sleep and live,” and 
closing his eyes, he was off to the land of slumber. 

Adolfo- proped the bathroom door wide open, and 
tip-toeing along the passage to the room where he had 
left Mary Phelps and Isabelle he glanced into it. 

Seeing Isabelle sitting in a chair by her aunt’s bed- 
side, and hearing the regular breathing of the sleeping 
one, he murmured to himself: 

“Thank God, these two also are saved!” 

Then, hurrying out of the house over the awful mass 
of wreckage, he started in search of help. 


CHAPTER XIII 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 

Across a shallow current of green, slimy water, Adolfo 
wended his way, climbing over one pile of debris after 
another. Every few feet he beheld the shocking sight 
of dead bodies, stretched about, naked and mutilated in 
a thousand different ways. 

From an opening through the wreckage, protruded 
here and there a foot; from another, the severed head 
of a baby; while, upon the heaped debris, were corpses 
in almost countless number, most of them many hours 
dead; bodies of men; of women clasping tiny dead babies 
to their o\\m lifeless bosoms. Some wore calm; peaceful 
expressions on their faces, while others revealed the 
horror they must have felt when they heard the terrible 
monster coming, and the pain they suffered while in its 
clutch. 

To Adolfo, this sight seemed more terrible than any- 
thing he had had to endure during the last twenty-four 
hours, while tossed here and there by the raging wind 
and waves, out of reach of the sound of human voices, 
in constant danger of being killed by flying objects or 
of sinking into the waters of the Gulf. 

The sickening emotion the boy now underwent com- 
pelled him to stop often for rest, and, as he gazed to the 
south, he could hardly believe that the waves of the 

( 147 ) 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


UB 

sea, now playing quietly, under the bright morning 
sun, could have been the scene and partly the cause of 
such an extraordinary upheaval and wholesale destruc- 
tion of life and property, laying waste, in less than a 
day and night, the proud and confiding city of Galveston. 

And why not proud? Was she not one of the wealth- 
iest and most progressive business centers in the south, 
besides being one of the most important sea-ports on 
our Atlantic Coast? 

Did she not possess a stretch of thirty-five miles of 
one of the best beaches in the world? 

Did she not have educational advantages second to 
none in the south? 

And were her citizens not known for their wealth, 
their philanthropy, their culture, their high sense of 
honor and their dauntless spirit of enterprise? 

What more, may we ask, does a city need to make 
her proud? 

And why not confiding? Of what could she be afraid? 

Her sanitary condition had always been good — the 
best safeguard against pestilence. 

And who ever thought of fear in connection with the 
beautiful waters of the Gulf? 

A few times, to be sure, the waters had grown a little 
gay in their equinoctial frolics, but the damage done had 
never amounted to much, and for years and years, these 
ocean-sprees had ended harmlessly, and the dancing 
waves rushed back obediently to their majestic home, 
where they played and sang, until, completely tired out 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


149 


by their holiday, they fell to sleep upon the bosom of 
the mighty deep. 

In fact, on such occasions, it was the delight of 
Galvestonians to rush to the beach and spend hours 
admiring and almost sharing the antics of the waves. 

And why should they not? Did they not love the 
shore and the surf of the Gulf, and were they not as 
much at home there as on the land? Never had there 
been any betrayal of their confidence in their huge 
playfellow and why should their minds not have been 
at rest and secure in that respect? 

But now, everything was changed; not that it was 
the fault of the waves; they had been driven to it by 
the furious lashing of a monster too colossal to be 
imagined by mortal mind, and sent out of the very 
gates of hell to mow down ruthlessly a great city full 
of human beings, happy in their total ignorance of im- 
pending danger; to raze the city to the ground and to 
devastate the whole country-side. 

Alas! where are now the proud, confiding people of 
Galveston? 

Thousands lie dead, mangled beyond recognition, amid 
the shapeless wreckage; and thousands of others are 
floating dead and ghastly upon the now placid waters of 
the stately Gulf; their bodies soon to be food for the 
sharks who live in countless numbers in the deep. 

‘T shall go crazy,’’ cried Adolfo, 'fif I stand here any 
longer looking at the beautiful, treacherous Sea. I 
had better hurry and find help for the three people I 
have left in the building yonder or they will die! But, 


160 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


what if I should find no one alive in the whole city! I 
have hardly the heart to go on for fear of gazing upon 
more appalling sights!” 

Still he resumed his heartrending trip. His progress 
wo-uld have been very slow even had he not been foot- 
sore and weary; for, in many places, it was almost im- 
possible to proceed. 

Around him, so far, he had seen no sign of life; now, 
for the first time, he heard a groan and hastened to a 
man, on the roadside, who was pinned by the rafters 
of a wrecked house. 

“I will get you out, sir, if possible,” cheerily cried 
Adolfo, his pluck all back, since he saw he could be of 
use; and he set to work at once to extricate the man. 
It was not an easy job and about an hour of his time 
was thus consumed. But what did that matter if he 
gave the unfortunate freedom, which in this case meant 
life? 

''Are any bones broken, sir?” asked Adolfo. 

"I think not,” replied the rescued man, still scarcely 
able to speak, “but I cannot live without water, I cannot 
live unless I can get it at once!” 

'‘I will do my best for you,” said Adolfo, enoourag- 
''I he able to find a hydrant somewhere in 
the back part of this house, which is still standing.” 

Adolfo hurried off and waded up to his neck in water 
in getting into the house. A hydrant could not be found 
on the lower floor. On the second floor he found a bath- 
room and the water pipes uninjured. 

He had picked up a large tin pail, floating around in 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


151 


the kitchen below, and quickly filling' it with fresh water, 
he ran clown the stairs anxious to get back to the poor 
man, almost beside himself with thirst. 

‘‘How stupid of me!” exclaimed Adolfo, as he reached 
the bottom of the stairs. “I have left my flag pole up 
stairs!” 

Setting the bucket on the dining-room table he ran 
up again, secured the pole, and started down the stairs. 

No sooner had he put his feet on the top steps than 
they fell, with a crash, and down he went with them; 
his precious flag pole was broken into ten pieces and 
floated off under the wrecked stairway into the Bay. 

Adolfo picked himself up in a moment, but most 
terribly cut and bruised and his right arm broken in 
two places. 

‘‘Well, it can’t be helped,” said the heroic boy, pinch- 
ing himself with his left hand to see if he were still alive. 
“I must get back to the poor fellow with some water 
or he’ll not have the strength to fight it out.” 

It was not easy to endure the pain and carry a full 
pail and wade back through the deep salt water to the 
place where he had left the man; but he accomplished 
it in spite of excruciating pains in his broken limb. He 
gave the man water galore and some bread he had 
thoughtfully put into his pocket from the supply found 
in the house w'here he had left Mary Phelps and Isabelle. 

“Thank God,” exclaimed the man. “I now think I 
can live. But what is the matter with you, boy? Are 
you hurt?” 

“Oh, it’s only my arm,” said Adolfo, “the stairs fell 


152 


EAt^LY SUNDAY MORNING 


down with me. But,” he added, scarcely able to control 
his voice, “I do not mind that a bit; it’s the losing oi 
my flag pole — that makes me feel so bad. Only the pole 
was left, sir, the flag was torn off in the storm last night. 
To get it safely through the awful night only to lose it 
in broad daylight when the storm is all over — ” 

"‘What flag is it you are speaking of, boy?” asked the 
man, thoroughly nonplussed. 

'‘Why, sir, our regimental flag. The one we had in 
Cuba! It was the only thing I truly cared for in the 
world — and now it is gone.” With visible efforts, Adolfo 
restrained his tears. 

The gentleman asked: ‘Why, my brave boy, who 
are you?” 

“I am just Adolfo Biondi.” 

“What!” exclaimed the man, “you are the brave little 
Italian who was with McCaleb in the Spanish-American 
war; I do not wonder now at your heroism.” 

The man arose to his feet with an effort and stretching 
his arms out to their full length, he cried: , 

“O Lord! how splendid it is to see again the light 
of day, and how I thank You for sending this noble 
lad to save me. Come, boy, you must get to some place 
where they will set and dress your arm. I insist on it. 
If I had some bandages I think I could fix it myself.” 

“Never mind me,” was the quick answer, “I’ll be 
all right. Some one is calling. Let’s go and take along 
the pail of water; it will be needed!” 

Remembering what relief the water had been to him, 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


153 


the man said: ‘‘You are right, lad; it saved my life. 
Let me help you carry it!” 

“No, no/’ said Adolfo, as he sprang forward at the 
cry of another human voice, that seemed to arise from 
the bowels of the earth. 

“Where are you? Where are you?” shouted Adolfo, 
at the top of his voice, while he and his companion 
both searched in every direction. 

“Here in the cistern,” was the muffled cry that came 
out of a big, board cistern, nearby. It lay partly inclined, 
resting top up, on a pile of debris, and it was lucky for 
the victims who had taken refuge within its capacious 
body, that it stood thus, as otherwise the two enfeebled 
rescuers could not have been of any use to them. 

Adolfo reached first the summit of the huge pile of 
wreckage on which the cistern rested, and cried to his 
companion : 

“Help me put a long plank down into the cistern for 
the people there to climb out on.” And after looking 
into the trap in which the persons there had been caught, 
he added, “There are five of them, a woman, a baby 
and three other small children, and up to their knees 
in water.” 

With the man’s assistance, Adolfo slid first a long 
board into the cistern, then shorter ones until a kind 
of steps were thus made reaching to the top. 

“Now, you people,” cried Adolfo, leaning over the 
cistern, “one of you climb up a step or two and hand 
me the baby.” 

His companion assisted him, all he could;, and soon 


154 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


the two between them, had the bab}^ safely out; then the 
mother handed the three little children up the unsteady 
steps; finally their rescuers drew her up. 

“Now you and your babies are safe/’ said Adolfo’s 
companion, addressing the woman. “This brave lad dug 
me out a while ago, and right glad I am to be able to 
return the favor to others.” 

Adolfo was busy giving the children water. He 
seemed to think thatjt was the first thing every rescued 
one might want, and he was right, too, as thirst is the 
most cruel torment that tortures the victims of such 
catastrophes. 

“Now, madam,” he said, handing the woman a re- 
freshing cup, “your children have had water and I am 
sure -they feel better.” 

She drank eagerly and replied: “Only the baby is 
my child; I have no idea whose the others are.” 

Adolfo enquired of the children their names, and all 
were surprised to learn that they were the children of 
different parents and that not one of them knew the 
other. 

My name is Mrs. George Flynn,” said the woman, 
“and God only knows where my husband is.” 

“We must hope that he is safe,” said Adolfo, in his 
usual cheering mood, “until we know the worst.” 

“You are right, sir,” replied Mrs. Flynn, “but tell me, 
please, whom I have to thank for rescuing myself and 
these poor children.” 

“This boy’s name is Adolfo Biondi, madam/’ said 
Adolfo’s companion. 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


155 


“And it’s a name I’ll never forget, sir, and I’ll teach it 
to baby as soon as he can understand it; but please tell 
me your own name, sir.” 

“Oh,” replied the gentleman, with a twinkle in his 
eye as he imitated Adolfo’s manner of replying: “I 
am 'just’ George Arthur, of New York. I struck the 
city at a very unfortunate time, as I only arrived here 
last Friday night. I came to hunt up a nephew of mine 
we have lost track of for eight years. He is in business 
in this city, or was, up to the night of the storm. Have 
some bread, madam, have some bread. How absurd of 
me to be standing here talking about myself, amid such 
terrible scenes of disaster. Now, Adolfo, I command 
you,” he added in a pleasant tone, “to lead the way to 
the city. Your arm must be set, if there is a doctor and 
any bandages left in this storm-ridden town. Come 
along, Mrs. Flynn, we will take you and these babies 
with us,” and picking up the smallest of the children 
he followed slowly the lead of Adolfo. 

The lad meditated gravely as he walked ahead of the 
refugees. 

“I wonder,” he thought, “who this Mr. Arthur’s 
nephew is?” 

Just then, he heard Mr. Arthur say to Mrs. Flynn: 
“If I could only find my nephew to-day, I would be 
deeply relieved, for I am in great fears that he may have 
lost his life; still there is hope yet.” 

Adolfo stepped to his side and said: “Tell me his 
name, sir, will you? I may perhaps be able to help you 
locate him,” 


156 


EARLY SUNDAY MORNING 


“My nephew’s name,” replied Mr. Arthur, “is Arthur 
Stokes, he was named after me and in appearance we 
very much resemble each other, allowances being made, 
of course, for the difference in our ages.” 

“Arthur Stokes!” exclaimed Adolfo Biondi. 

“Why, yes,” replied Mr. Arthur, “but what is that to 
you, Adolfo?” 

“Nothing,” the boy replied, “I only cried out because 
my arm hurt me!” And the two dropped the subject. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A SUNDAY FULL OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 

Not one of the survivers of the fearful cyclone that 
swooped down on Galveston on Saturday, September the 
8th, 1900, and continued raging throughout the entire 
night, had the least idea of the amount of destruction it 
had wrought in life and property. 

The police officers and volunteers who had done some 
daring rescuing, Saturday afternoon and early in the 
evening, thought there might be fifty to a hundred lives 
lost and a couple of hundred thousand dollars’ worth 
of property destroyed. 

It was only on Sunday morning, when the wind had 
fallen and the water began to run back to the Bay and 
Gulf, that the police force and the people of Galveston 
deemed to realize what appalling calamity had well nigh 
anihilated their fair city. Then, from all sides, arose 
courageous men and women, intent upon a work of 
rescue — where rescue was still possible — or of vigilance 
and sanitation where death and destruction had left but 
shapeless corpses and wrecked buildings. 

By the time Adolfo, with Mr. Arthur, Mrs. Flynn and 
the children had reached East Broadway and Tremont 
street, heart sick and foot sore, from climbing over pile 
after pile of debris and viewing the destruction of 

( 157 ) ' 


158 A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 


property and the unsightly dead, it was already nine 
o’clock. 

Scores of sightseers and relief parties were seen com- 
ing in the distance and their faint hearts gathered new 
courage. 

The group of rescued ones presented anything but a 
pleasing aspect, yet they were greeted with loud cheers 
when the first relief party came up to them. The children 
were wholly naked, Mrs. Flynn’s skirts were in ribbons, 
and were held to her body by a stout waistband. Mr. 
George Arthur was hatless and coatless, while the rest 
of his erstwhile fashionable garments, were in the same 
plight as Mrs. Flynn’s clothes. But poor Adolfo! He 
presented the worst sight of all. From his waist up his 
body was bare and marked in a dozen places, all of which 
were now blood stained ; one of his arms was broken and 
hanging limp and Hfeless by his side, while great gashes 
were visible in his face and head and his hair was matted 
with blood. Below his waist only a few tatters were left 
of a garment once called trousers. 

Not one of the party, however, seemed conscious of 
the pitiful sight they presented. 

When questioned by a policeman, who got ahead of 
the others, eager to perform some service, Mr. Arthur 
said, pointing to Adolfo: 

‘This boy needs medical attention at once. His arm 
is broken in two places. And these little ones also must 
have shelter.” Then, glancing down at the children, a 
look of amazement came over his face. “But the poor 
things are actually naked ! And we are not much better 


A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 169 


off, I see. Please, take us all to the Tremont and bring 
food and clothes for all. Wait, here is one of my cards 
— cards — They are gone — Oh well — it makes no dif- 
ference. I — am George Arthur, of New York; I reg- 
istered at the Tremont yesterday — ” 

Just then, a man stepped forward, exclaiming: 

“Mr. Arthu^ right glad I am to see you alive, sir; 
your name was just mentioned at the hotel as being 
among the lost. I am Dr. Flint; let me insist on all 
of your party hurrying to the hotel at once, and I will 
attend to the injured.’’ 

At -that moment, another physician offered his assis- 
ance, and Adolfo speaking for the first time said: 

“Then if you are a physician, sir, you come with me; 
in a house, over there,” and he pointed back to the Gulf 
shore, “I have a lady, a child and a man in a dying con- 
dition, and I was on my way to find help for them when 
I met these other people here. Let’s go to them at once.” 

“But your own wounds, boy!” exclaimed Mr. Arthur. 

“I will attend to them, this moment,” replied the kind 
doctor. 

“Then,” said Mr. Arthur, “we shall go on. Dr. Flint; 
but, sir,” speaking to the other surgeon, “don’t fail to let 
me know about this lad; my name and present address 
are Arthur, Hotel Tremont — I — I, can’t see! — What’s 
the matter, doctor?” and he fell backward in a dead 
faint, only saved from injury by the timely support of 
strong arms. 

And thus, Mr, George Arthur, capitalist, laid. 


160 A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 

in an unconscious condition, upon a shutter, pulled out 
of the debris, and carried by four strong men to the hotel. 

Two other men took in their arms the half frozen, 
naked children and shielded their bare Bodies as best 
they could with their own coats. 

Another m'an, and he a fashionably attired young fel- 
low, the same volunteer, who, the night before had aided 
policeman Bird in removing the dead and wounded at 
Ritter’s place on the Strand, put a protecting arm around 
the woman and said in a tone full of sympathy: ‘‘Lean 
on me, madam, and keep up your courage for a little 
while longer. In a few moments, you and these children, 
will have every comfort Galveston can afford.” 

Terrible rumors began to be whispered all over town, 
that morning, that the dead would have to be counted 
by the thousands, among them a number of prominent 
citizens and many strangers registered at the hotels who 
had not been seen alive since late in the afternoon of 
Saturday. People spoke of Mr. George Arthur, capita- 
list of New York; Arthur Stokes, general development 
promoter of Galveston; George Boyessen, cotton broker. 
A later report came that Judge Phelps and his entire 
family, on East Broadway, were among the missing. 

Still old Dr. Flint had not lost all hopes that his two 
young friends, who had rushed out so wildly into the 
storm, Saturday afternoon, were alive; if that elderly Mr. 
Arthur and his frail companions in misfortune had sur- 
vived the storm, why not the two robust young men 
whose intrepidity bad sent them out to a mission of 
rescue? 


A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 161 


As ordered by Mr. Arthur, Dr. Flint had his 
whole party — minus Adolfo — comfortably quartered at 
the Tremont hotel. Mr. Arthur he attended to pro-- 
fessionally, but it was a long- time before he could bring 
him back to consciousness. The old gentleman had 
hardly recovered his senses, when a raging fever set 
in and held its victim for days in a bed of pain. 

True to his word, the young volunteer who had so 
gallantly assisted Mrs. Flynn to the hotel, saw that her- 
self and the children were comfortably clothed and well 
fed — and leaving word that, until further orders, they 
were to remain at the hotel at his expense, he went out 
to make himself useful among the crowds of unfortunates. 

All day, this noble knight cared for the suffering, 
bought food and clothing for the hungry and naked, 
and made provision for their shelter for the weeks to 
come. 

Then he passed on out of their lives, not even so much 
as leaving his name for a clue to his identity, and not 
once did any of those whom he had cared for so tenderly 
set eyes again upon his handsome face beaming with love 
and pity, or hear the gentle sound of his comforting 
voice. 

What does it matter? In the heart of each of those 
he rescued from danger, hunger, thirst, nakedness, there 
will always be engravened indelibly the picture of his 
visage, resplendent with God’s own mark, more like an 
angel from heaven than a scion of sinful humankind. 

Dr. Roberts, the physician who had offered his services 
to Adolfo led the faint youth to a secure position on 


1C2 A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 

the top of the heap of debris whereon their meeting had 
taken place. 

With the assistance of a policeman, he quickly 
set Adolfo’s broken arm and bound it solidly, for 
sake of protection, using as substitutes for splints part 
of the lid of a trunk-tray that lay smashed close by them. 

^'Necessity,” he said, smiling, “is certainly the mother 
of invention. I feel sure, my dear boy, that your limb 
will soon be all right.” 

All the ugly cuts and bruises on Adolfo’s body were 
carefully washed and bandaged, and in a few moments, 
doctor, patient and officer were on their way to Mary 
Phelps and the injured, man. ^ 

The sight around them grew worse as the hot sun 
rose higher in the heavens and its heat began to swell 
the water-soaked corpses until they were a third larger 
than in life, many of them showing already strong signs 
of coming decomposition. 

Rescuing parties were now seen hurrying in every 
direction, carrying axes, saws and other hand tools, while 
physicians followed with everything necessary to bind 
broken lirhbs, to bandage wounds, and to administer 
such stimulants and medicine as the occasion demanded. 

Dr. Roberts met many cases who needed attention, 
but went his way without stopping, assisting the officer 
to help along the excited, but enfeebled youth who acted 
as their guide. 

Adolfo groaned aloud at his own pain, and yet called 
on the Almighty to spare his three proteges’ lives until 
he could get back to them. 


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A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 165 


Dr. Roberts had almost to force Adolfo to swallow 
a little whiskey from a flask he carried in his pocket 
for just such purposes; without this stimulant, they would 
never have been able to complete the trip. 

But their way was so badly obstructed, that progress 
was necessarily very slow, and it was two o’clock in the 
afternoon before they entered the house where Mary 
Phelps, her niece and the unconscious man had been 
left by Adolfo. 

“Your wounded people are surely not in here,” said 
Dr. Roberts, when he saw the terrible condition the 
flooded building was in. 

“Yes, sir,” answered Adolfo, “they are on the next 
floor; come, I will show you the way.” 

He hurried up the stairs two steps at a time and as 
he rushed into the room where he had left Mary Phelps 
and Isabelle, he cried: 

“Isabelle, Isabelle, here is your Adolfo,” and he picked 
up the child from the floor, whereon, tired out with her 
long watching and waiting, she had cried herself to 
sleep. The lad kissed her tear-stained face repeating: 
“Isabelle, this is Adolfo, he has come back to you and 
Aunt Mary.” 

The child was awak>now, although at first too dazed 
to speak. 

“Some of his folks,” remarked the policeman, evidently 
moved by the touching scene: “No wonder he was 
anxious to get here.” 

“Come, dear,” said Adolfo, “tell me how Aunt Mary 
has been since I left.” 


166 A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 

He put the child down and motioned the doctoir to 
the bed. 

“She never waked up,” answered the child with quiver- 
ing lips, “so I got scared and cried and cried until I 
went to sleep/’ 

“Never mind, dear, Adolfo is here now, and will never 
leave you again.” 

They all bent over the bed with anxious faces — to see 
what had caused Mary Phelps’ long sleep. 

In a serious tone. Dr, Roberts said: 

“My poor boy, I believe we are too late.” 

“No, no,” cried Adolfo, “she shall not die, she must 
not die!” 

“Indeed, I heartily hope she may pull through, but 
there is very, very little hope.” 

At that moment, the lad noticed that Mary’s broken 
arm was bandaged and in a sling. The doctor saw it 
too and quietly remarked, “Some assistance has already 
been rendered the lady.” 

“Who has been here, Isabelle?” asked Adolfo. 

“No one,” answered the little girl, “I helped aunty 
fix her arm before she went to sleep.” 

“It is not badly done,” said the doctor, “considering 
a dying woman and a little girl did it.” 

“My aunty 4s not dead,” cried Isabelle indignantly. 
“She isn’t going to die, either!” 

“We’ll hope so, certainly,” said the officer, “but how 
do you know, little one?” 

“God told me when I went to sleep,” confidently 
replied the child. 


A SUNDAY OF SURPRISES AND SORROW 167 


For the next few moments, the doctor worked silently 
over the unconscious woman, then turning to the child 
he said: 

“Come here, little one, let me kiss your beautiful face. 
I think you are right; your aunty is not dead. God 
knows best, doesn’t He?” 

He directed the officer to stay with the sick woman, 
and Adolfo to take him to the other wounded victim. 

“I wonder who the unfortunate fellow is?” asked Dr. 
Roberts as he examined the unconscious man on the 
floor. 

“I have no idea,” replied Adolfo. “When I brought 
the others here, early this morning I found him in the 
bath tub, almost drowned. I gave him food and water; 
he revived somewhat, at the time. But I tell 3^u it was 
an effort to get him out of the tub, for he is certainly 
twice my weight.” 

“He is in a bad fix now,” said Dr. Roberts; “the 
woman, we shall have to leave alone for a while; even 
now it is very late to do anything with this poor fellow, 
and it will take our combined assistance to care for his 
wounds properly. Had he no clothes on when you 
found him,” asked the doctor as Adolfo was on the 
point of stepping outside for water. 

“Only a few rags, there in the corner,” he replied; 
leaving the room at once. 

“I wonder if there is a pocket left on the rags?” the 
doctor said to himself; “I’ll see; I would like to know 
who the man is, for he ma3i*die — Yes, here is a pocket 
intact — it contains a letter, but the salt water has done 


168 A SUNDAY OP SURPRISES AND SORROW 


its work, I cannot decipher the name — Good luck, a card 
case — 

Opening it the physician drew, out a card and read 
aloud: “Arthur Stokes, General Development Promoter, 
Galveston.” 

“Well/’ he murmured, “Mr. Stokes, you will not do 
very much general promoting for a while — All the same, 
should you die, I’ll have something to identify you by. 
It is lucky for his folks, if he has any, that I found that 
pile of wet rags before they were thrown away.” 

The doctor put the card in his own pocket, and for 
reasons which he could not explain decided to make no 
immediate mention of the fact that he had discovered 
the man’s name. 

At this moment, the officer and Adolfo entered the 
room, and the three set to work binding the broken arms. 

After more than an hour’s hard work, the fractured 
limbs were set, the wounds dressed, restoratives applied, 
and thanks to medical skill the patient began to show 
signs of returning consciousness. 


CHAPTER XV 


IN FULL POSSESSION 

‘"By Jove, I believe the fellow is coming to/’ exclaimed 
the doctor; ‘T had better run back now, and see. how 
th^ young lady is getting along. Poor creature, I hope, 
for the child’s sake, that she may pull through.” 

“Do you think she has any fever?” Adolfo asked. 

“She has it strong, my dear fellow, and I am afraid it 
will turn out to be brain fever. She needs now a good 
female nurse more than anything else. Unfortunately 
Galveston has always suffered from a dearth of trained 
nurses. From the looks of things to-day, I think the few 
we have will be terribly overworked.’ I only wish I 
could get Miss Cora Kimbro, of the Albert Kimbro 
Sanitarium, in Houston; she understands her business 
better than any nurse in this part of the country.” 

“I will telegraph for her, if you say so,” said Adolfo. 

“It is impossible for anyone to wire from Galveston 
to-day, all the poles are do'wn,” was the astounding reply. 
“In fact we are entirely cut off from the outside world, 
and so we shall have to remain until our neighbors realize 
the terrible plight we are in; and that won’t take long, 
I am quite sure.” 

“I believe,” remarked officer Plummer, impressively, 
“that none of ns knows one half of the extent of the 
destruction done by this storm.” 

( 169 ) 


170 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


“I, for one, have not the faintest idea of it; I am only 
thanking my stars that I am alive, and able to render 
some assistance to the afflicted ones. I must go now 
and visit my lady patient; I wish I could secure a 
nurse for to-night. Ah, I have it!” exclaimed the doctor, 
stepping out in the hall and hurrying over to the room 
where Miss Phelps lay still in a deep torpor. 

Adolfo followed him, eager to understand the meaning 
of the physician’s sudden impulse. What was his sur- 
prise, when they both entered the room, to see a man 
and woman, their backs to the door, gazing intently at 
the patient on the bed. 

Poor little Isabelle lay by her side, having cried her- 
self to sleep again. Hearing footsteps, the newcomers 
faced the door. The doctor rushed forward and ex- 
claimed : 

''Hello, Mac; and how do you do, Mrs. Robinson? 
Out sight-seeing too, are you?” 

"Partly,” replied Mr. Robinson, "and also because we 
wanted to see what was left of our once comfortable 
home.” 

"We left it just before the worst began, yesterday even- 
ing, and went to the hotel,” added Mrs. Robinson. "Now 
we find we have guests. Truly glad I am that our house 
was the haven where these poor, storm-tossed creatures 
found a refuge. 

"And some who were not storm-tossed, have learned 
the way, too. I see the doctor, here, is in full possession,” 
laughed Mr. Robinson, and he added, "In fact, I believe 
we shall have to vacate entirely, Mrs. Mac, for mv friend 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


171 


here seems to have opened up a private sanitarium on 
the premises, and possession is nine points of the law.” 

“You are speaking more wisely than you know, Mr. 
Robinson,” the doctor replied in a serious tone. “Indeed 
this woman and a man in the bathroom are each in a 
serious condition. Had they not found this providential 
shelter no. human power could, by this time, have done 
them any good.” 

Adolfo and officer Plummer stood looking in, through 
the hall door. 

“Is he and the other man injured?” asked Mr. Robin- 
son, stepping to the entrance. “Why, it’s officer Plum- 
mer! How do you do, sir? I hope you are not hurt.” 

“Not in the least, but this lad is in a pretty bad con- 
dition, and should this moment be in bed,” replied the 
officer. 

“No, no, ril be all right, after a night’s s^leep,” ex- 
claimed the boy, disliking to give up. 

“And food?” thoughtfully interjected Mrs. Robinson, 
“he must have food, and I will have my man bring up 
some fresh milk.” 

“We all three have eaten of some food I found in 
another room,” said Adolfo. 

Mrs. Robinson stepped to the hall, and calling to her 
gardener who was below trying to tidy things a little, 
told him to bring up some milk. 

“Who is the young lady?” asked Mr. Robinson as 
his eyes gazed admiringly upon the beautiful woman 
that lay on the bed, her face flushed with fever. 


172 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


Dr. Roberts bathed, her visag-e and hands and shook 
his head ominously, while he replied: 

“Her face seems familiar, but I cannot recall her 
name.’’ 

The talking aroused Isabelle and she raised her head, 
looked around her in a frightened manner and seeing 
Adolfo, cried: “My Adolfo! My dear Adolfo! How 
nice! He has come back!” 

“Who is the child?” asked Mr. Robinson of Adolfo. 

“I am Isabelle, and Adolfo saved me,” was the quick 
answer of the little miss. 

“I rescued her and this lady last night; she told me 
her name is Isabelle and that the lady is her aunt.” 

“She is my aunty,” affirmed the child, “my Aunt 
Mary.” 

The doctor lifted the child from the bed, she holding 
closely to the sheet, Adolfo had wrapped around her 
early that morning. 

“Has the child no clothing?” asked Mr. Robinson of 
Adolfo. 

“No, sir, every shred was torn from her in the storm 
last night.” 

“Poor child, I will find something warm for her right 
away,” said kind Mrs. Robinson as she led Isabelle into 
an adjoining room. 

“The young lady, here, may live if I can secure a 
good strong woman to nurse her through this intense 
fever. It will be impossible to get a professional nurse, 
however. Perhaps, after all, I had better have these 
two people removed to the hospital,” 


m FULL POSSESSION 


173 

^‘You are perfectly welcome to the use of my house, 
doctor/' interposed Mr. Robinson; ‘hn fact I insist on 
your patients staying- here. I am sure, that, between 
us we can make them fairly comfortable." 

'‘I earnestly thank you, Mr. Robinson, in behalf of 
these poor people," the doctor said, with undisguised 
emotion; and he added: “In such an overwhelming 
disaster I feel certain that every one will perform his 
part in helping to relieve the afflicted. The next diffi- 
culty now is how to secure a competent nurse. I have 
in mind an old negro woman — " 

“If she escaped the awful night," remarked Mr. Robin- 
son. 

“Ah, I had not thought of that; I was thinking of 
old Lucinda Stokes — " 

“Lucinda Stokes?" exclaimed both Mr. Robinson and 
Adolfo in the same breath. 

“Oh, sir, she is dead," continued Adolfo. 

“How do you know? Have you seen her, boy?" asked 
the astonished doctor. 

“I saw her Friday," answered Adolfo. “She told me 
the storm would be here and that she would be lost. 
I know she told the truth for she was a prophetess." 

“What the boy says is correct, doctor," added Mr. 
Robinson, “the body of this old negress was one of the 
first brought into the morgue this morning; Lucinda 
Stokes’ body, stark naked, stiff and swollen lay on a slab, 
all bloody and maimed. It was a horrible sight and I 
don’t believe I shall ever be able to get it entirely out of 
my mind." 


174 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


“It was the same woman a negro who was killed at 
Ritter’s place last night spoke of just before he died. 
He claimed to be her grandson and said he had been 
warned by her not to stay at Ritter’s place longer than 
two o’clock Saturday afternoon or he would surely meet 
his death in a wreck. He gave no heed to the warning, 
and the thing prophesied happened.” 

“Poor George,” exclaimed Adolfo, “he was a good 
fellow; how horrible, how horrible!” 

“You knew these negroes well, it seems,” asked Mr. 
Robinson. 

“Lucinda nursed me through a spell of fever and 
George helped her at the time,” replied Adolfo, falling 
back in a chair, sick and faint. 

“The lad has exhausted himself,” said Mr. Robinson, 
as he and the doctor caught Adolfo just in time to keep 
him from falling. 

“We’ll take him to the bed in the next room,” said 
Mr. Robinson. 

“I think it is only' a swoon,” replied the doctor; “I 
should have made the brave fellow lie down some time 
ago. By Jove, he has certainly showe'd his pluck in a 
most extraordinary manner, for the last twelve hours! 

In a few moments, Adolfo opened his eyes and sighed 
deeply, like a person completely played out. 

“Ans you hungry?” enquired the doctor. 

“Oh yes, very;” then he asked, rather irrelevantly, 
“Am I going to die?” 

“No indeed, you are not, if we have anything to do 
with it,” answered Mr. Robinson. “Here is my man, 


IN FULL POSSESSION 175 

Bert, with milk, drink this cup and go to sleep, like 
a good lad, and m the morning you shall have good, 
warm clothes, by your bedside.” 

'Adolfo drank the milk greedily and lay back on the 
pillow, totally unable to hold his head up any longer. 

“My, but the lad looks bad, the bandage on his head 
seems to heighten the pallor of his face,” whispered the 
doctor, and his face showed the concern he felt at the 
sight. 

“Do you know anything about this boy?” asked Mr. 
Robinson, taking Dr. Roberts some distance from the 
bed. “Did he relate his experiences in the storm?” 

“He did not; neither did he complain of his own 
wounds; he only urged me to hurry here to attend to 
these people.” 

At that moment, officer Plummer came to- the door 
in great excitement, calling the doctor to come at once 
to the young lady, as she was raving. 

It took the three strong men all their strength to hold 
the poor, fever-crazed creature in her bed. She screamed : 

“Oh, Arthur, save me, save me — I am drowning. I 
knew all the time that you loved me. It was some terri- 
ble mistake that separated us.” 

They gently laid the excited, sick girl back on the 
pillows where she lay sobbing. The men looked at each 
other and officer Plummer remarked: “She has a 
romance in her life, that’s sure, but what woman has 
not?” and he walked to the window, his head down, in a 
thoughtful mood. 


176 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


'‘What name did she call out, doctor?” asked Mr. 
Robinson. 

"Arthur. I think, I have heard the name somewhere — 
but where? Let me think! Oh! I remember now; it’s 
the name of a fellow, reported, this morning at the hotel, 
as lost. He was a guest there. But he was picked up 
somewhere and brought to the Tremont by four men.” 

"Yes,” added Dr. Roberts, "I was with the parties 
when they took Mr. Arthur to the hotel. It was the 
boy yonder who rescued him, as well as the women and 
children who were taken to the same place with Mr. 
Arthur.” 

"Is it possible?” exclaimed Mr. Robinson. "What a 
hero, for a lad of his age! There is no telling what the 
brave young fellow has had to go through. By the way, 
the young lady here, who can she be? Did the boy 
know her name?” 

"I think not,” answered the physician. "The little 
girl calls her aunty, that' is all the lad seemed to know 
about her.” 

"Oh, Arthur, Arthur,” moaned the delirious woman 
again, "if we drown, I hope we will go down together — 
I am going — I am going. Great God, I am lost.” 

"No, you are not lost,” said the doctor kindly, "we 
shall save you yet.” 

"Is it you, Arthur?” she asked, throwing out her 
arms wildly, as if she were struggling in the water. 

"Yes,” said Dr. Roberts, "Arthur is here, he will not 
let you drown,” 


m FULL POSSESSION 


m 


“It is pitiful, pitiful!” said Mr. Robinson, turning 
aside to hide his emotion. 

Officer Plummer blew his nose vigorously, and said: 
“Pll step into the other room, doctor, and see how your 
other patient is getting on ; then, if you don’t need me 
here any longer. I’ll go back to towoi; they’ll want me 
badly, I know, if only to help bury the dead.” 

“You are right, Plummer,” answered the physician, 
“I think you’d better go; but before you leave, will you 
let me know if the man over there needs me.” 

“Isabelle, Isabelle! The poor darling is drowning!” 
sihrieked the woman in the terrible clutches of fever. 

Just then the child was entering the room followed 
by Mrs. Rcxbinson. Hearing her name uttered by her 
aunt, she clapped her tiny hands and ran to the bed, 
crying delightedly: 

“My aunty is awake!” 

Mary Phelps raised her burning head from the pillow, 
and seeing a child on the bed by her side, cried out in 
a mad voice: 

“You are not my Isabelle. She is drowning — there 
she goes.” 

The bewildered Isabelle looked up to the doctor and 
asked: “What ails my aunty? > Is she talking in her 
sleep? It’s funny she thinks we are in the storm! Why, 
Adolfo saved us both — We didn’t drown, did we?” her 
confidence in her own safety being for a moment shaken. 

“No,” answered Mrs. Robinson, leaning over the bed 
an^d taking the child from it; “no, certainly you are not 
drowned.” 


178 IN FULL POSSESSION 

“This night of terror was enough to unbalance any 
mind. Poor things,’’ said the doctor. 

“Little girl,” asked Mr. Robinson, taking the child 
on his knee, “tell me what your aunty’s name is?” 

“Why, don’t you know that she is my Aunt Mary? 
That’s funny! Aunt Mary is papa’s baby sister. Have 
you a baby sister?” 

“No, I have not. But what is your papa’s name, 
darling?” 

“The men who come to see him call him Judge. 
Mamma calls him William, and aunty. Uncle Will; and 
I call him my old dad. It’s funny all the names he has ; 
ain’t it? Where is my papa now?” a sudden fear com- 
ing over the child and filling her eyes with tears. 

“He may be safe and in somebody else’s house, just 
as you are yourself, dearie,” replied Mrs. Robinson, 
soothingly. 

The doctor, hoping to draw the child out, and to get 
her to speak her father’s surname, resorted to a ruse; he 
asked. 

“Did you live on East Broadway child?” 

To his surprise she replied, “Yes.” 

“Why Judge William Jones lives there. That’s your 
papa, I guess — ” 

“No, no,” interrupted the child, excitedly, “my papa’s 
name is not Jones it’s Phelps. And this is Aunt Mary 
Phelps.” 

“Truth is stranger than fiction,” said Dr. Roberts, 
with a sigh of relief, “The name, Mary Phelps, brings 
to my mind a very pathetic story told to me last night 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


179 


by a young fellow we took out of Ritter’s place more 
dead than alive. I gave him my word to keep his name 
a secret; but to hunt Miss Mary Phelps up and to con- 
fide to her the grave facts in his confession. It appears 
that she is his cousin, and, that at one time he was in 
love with her; made very angry by her refusing him, he 
managed, by underhand means, to keep her from marry- 
ing the man she loved and from getting a big ‘fortune 
her aunt had willed her. As you see it is quite a 
romance! l^he young fellow thought he was going to 
die, or I believe he never would have told his secret. 
He caused this young relative eight years of unhappi- 
ness, by the lies he circulated about the man she Was 
to marry. I knew Mrs. Phelps by sight, and had met 
her niece once, but I never would have recognized the 
radiantly beautiful Miss Mary Phelps in her present 
condition,” concluded the doctor. 

‘‘And the fellow who made the confession, where is 
he?” asked Mr. Robinson. 

“I had him moved to the hospital this morning, and 
I believe he will recover. I only hope he will rfot be 
sorry he let his secret escape in the remorse and anguish 
of possible death. After all, this dreadful storm may be 
the means of bringing together two people wickedly 
separated. I have done all I can do here to-night,” 
concluded the physician, “and shall go now. If I do 
not succeed in securing a competent woman and an 
able man to attend to these two sick persons, during the 
night, I will return, not later than six o'clock. I have 
several other patients who need my attention, in the 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


ISO 

meanwhile. All this young lady needs, besides the 
medicine I have given her, is sleep and in the moniing 
some light food. And the man? Well, let’s take a look 
at him before I go, Mr. Robinson.” 

‘‘Another patient on this floor, doctor!” exclaimed the 
owner of the house, as he followed the physician to the 
bedside of the still unconscious man. “Well, I’ll be 
blown! And have you any idea where he came from?” 

“The lad discovered this man, nearly dead, in your 

bath tub, and not being strong enough to get him to 

another room and onto a bed, he ‘took Mohamet to the 

mountain,’ that is, be dragged in a mattress,” replied the 

% 

doctor, as he made a professional examination of the 
exhausted sleeper. 

“I will call in my gardener,” said the kindly host, “and 
the three of us will manage tq^ lift mattress and man 
onto the bed, where he will be more comfortable.” 

When Arthur Stokes had thus been moved to Mr. 
Robinson’s own room, the latter asked his man, Bert, if 
he would take charge of the patients in the house if some 
good woman could be secured to help him. 

The gardener assured his employer that he would do 
all he could for the sufferers — and that he knew a woman 
who would gladly come and assist him. 

“We shall not return to the hotel until Bert is back 
from his errand, and if he fails to find a desirable nurse, 
my wife and I will do our share of the watching. How- 
ever, if possible. I’ll secure some one, as my business at 
the wharf must be in a terribly bad fix, and I’ll have to 
look after it, the first thing, to-morrow. 


IN FULL POSSESSION 


181 


“All rig-ht, Mr. Robinson; so I’ll leave my patients 
in your charge until morning, w'hen I shall call early, 
and see what I can do.” 

Thanking them for their benevolent kindness toward 
these total strangers, the warm-hearted physician bid 
them good-bye and hurried away to other duties in the 
desolate city. 


CHAPTER XVL 


THE HORROR GROWS 

It was nearly night, when Dr. Roberts reached the 
Tremont hotel. It was the Mecca to which everyone in 
that city of grief flocked, that Sunday. There the busi- 
ness men collected to talk in hushed tones over the sad 
affair; there many police officers would drop in, on their 
way to perform some of their arduous, exhausting duties, 
to tell of new horrors they had witnessed; there, also, 
gathered many of the victims, all of them, half naked 
and almost famished. No words were required to tell 
everyone who gazed on their awe-stricken faces that 
they had suffered untold agony during the last few hours, 
and that most of them were now grieving for the loss 
of some loved one, snatched away by the awful monster, 
without a moment’s notice. 

Perhaps this mother was weeping for the babe torn 
from her breast and hurled by the giant hurricane into 
an irresistible whirlpool of destruction. 

Maybe it was a husband, a mother, a sister, or a wife 
that were gone — gone forever — Alas, grief was here, in 
all its saddest forms; this was indeed a day of unutterable 
mourning. 

When Dr. Roberts had started out, that morning, with 
a rescuing party, the orders were to bring in all the dead 
to the morgue; but those instructions were soon coun- 
( 182 ) 


THE HORROR GROWS 


189 


termanded, for, before two hours, that charnel house was 
filled to overflowing: and hundreds of bodies had been 
gathered in the various undertaking establishments. The 
situation was indeed appalling! It was impossible to dig 
graves and bury so many victims before they would 
become a most serious menace to public health. A solemn 
consultation of business men. and officials took place, that 
same afternoon, for the purpose of finding a way of dis- 
posing of this incredibly large number of corpses. It 
was finally decided to haul the dead to the beach, pile 
them up in barges, take them out several miles into 
the Gulf, and sink each body separately by means of a 
heavy weight securely fastened to it. 

Before eight o'clock, Monday morning, this grewsome 
work was begun. The mangled, swollen, naked and 
discolored remains of men, women and children, irre- 
spective of sex or color, were laden into carts and 
started to the beach. 

It was an awful sight! Never before ’was such a 
funeral train gazed upon by human eyes. 

As the day advanced, more dead bodies were dis- 
covered and the task of disposing of them grew more 
appallingly difficult, the remains being now in such an 
advanced state of decomposition, that it became almost 
impossible to find teamsters willing to cart away these 
gbastly loads. But we are proceeding too fast, let us 
remember that we have left Dr. Roberts, on Sunday 
evening and now we find him witnessing the loading of 
the first funeral cart with the dead from the morgue. 

The first corpse thrown in, he recognized as that of 


184 


THE HORROR GROWS 


George Stokes, colored, killed the night before at Rit- 
ter’s place. 

The last one thrown on the same cart was the legless 
trunk of Lucinda. 

"‘A strange coincidence/’ said the doctor speaking to 
himself. 

“What is that, Roberts? Did you recognize any of 
those bodies?” asked Dr. Flint, who stood watching, by 
the side of his brother physician. 

“I did,” was the reply, “I recognized the remains of 
George Stokes colored and of his grandmother, Lucinda. 

I heard from his own lips, yesterday, just before he died, 
that she had prophesied this storm and their death.” 

“Was then the legless body we just saw that of the 
old negress?” 

“It was,” repiled Dr. Roberts. 

“I heard of her prophecy,” remarked Dr. Flint, with 
an involuntary shudder, “and I saw the fearfully muti- 
lated body of another whose death she predicted would 
take place in this very same storm; a friend of mine, 
young George Boyessen. And while the remains of 
another friend who was with George have not, to my 
knowledge, been recovered, I fear the worst. I speak of 
Arthur Stokes.” 

Dr. Roberts, not recognizing the name at first, did not 
interrupt Dr. Flint. 

“These two went out in a carriage,” resumed the older 
physician, “about three or half-past three, Saturday to 
hunt for Judge Phelps’ house on East Broadway. It 
appears the judge’s younger sister had once been 


riiere lay the maimed and crushed body of Lucinda 




THE HORROR GROWS 


187 


Arthur’s fiancee. I tried to dissuade the friends from 
their reckless expedition in the growing tempest, but 
nothing I could urge would make Arthur change his 
mind — and the poor fellows, in their anxiety to be of use, 
rushed out to their death. For I have since learned, 
that the judge’s house was completely swept away just 
about the time Stokes and Boyessen must have reached 
it, and the entire family are reported lost. The two 
friends were undoubtedly included in the disaster.” 

'Well,” said Dr. Roberts, evasively, “there are strange 
coincidences in this world, and, as I had occasion to say 
once already, to-day, truth is often stranger than fiction.” 
More he did not tell, and kept his secret; for what reason, 
he would have been uncble to explain. Perhaps it was 
because, little by little, he was getting more interested 
in Mary Phelps’ romance and felt like waiting a few 
days longer, to allow these curious events to assume their 
final shape. 

The two physicians walked down the street together, 
now and then stopping to exchange a few words with 
some friend who had his sorrows to tell or with others 
who related stories of cruel suffering and grief. 

So far, no communication had been established with 
the main land, and unless- relief came soon from some 
source, the stoutest heart was afraid to think of what 
the result might be. 

Hunger drives mankind to the most dangerous ex- 
cesses, and unless supplies came very promptly, rioting 
might cause further desolation in the God-stricken city. 


188 


THE HORROR GROWS 


How to bring some sort of order out of this extraordinary 
chaos was the question on every one’s lips. 

Everybody on the streets greeted friends and acquaint- 
ances with a glad cheer and a hearty handshake, as if 
they had come out unscathed from an unheard-of danger, 
but only a few were brave enough to ask: “How have 
your people fared?” Alas how gloomy the answer would 
have been, in hundreds of cases! 

Next day, on his morning visit. Dr. Roberts had the 
satisfaction to find his patients, at the Robinson home, 
in a much more favorable state of health, but, neverthe- 
less, he left strict orders that neither should be told of 
the presence of the other in the house. He was wise 
in adopting these prudent measures, as he was con- 
vinced that Arthur Stokes was Mary Phelps’ lover, and 
until both were fever-free and on the way tO' recovery, 
which might not be the case for several weeks, it would 
be too much of a shock for either to. know of the presence 
of the Other under the same roof. 

A woman was secured to cook for the sick ones and to 
attend on Mary Phelps during the day, while Bert did 
service all night and part of the day, being relieved a 
few hours only by the woman he had secured to sit up 
at night. 

During the first night, Isabelle was taken care of by 
Mrs. Robinson at the hotel, in the company of another 
little charge whom Mr. Robinson had rescued on Satur- 
day afternoon on his way home after his wife. 

This other child was a little boy about four years old, 


THE HORROR GROWS 


180 


and already the kindly old couple wondered how they 
ever could give him up. 

The only information they could obtain about the little 
fellow was his sole answer, to all queries, “My name’s 
Tom.” 

He was a beautiful child and his disposition was 
charming. And very soon Isabelle and the handsome 
little boy were the greatest of friends. Every few hours, 
Mrs. Robinson went with Isabelle tO' take some dainties 
to the sick young aunt and spend hours nursing her. 

“How is your patient, Mr. Arthur?” enquired Dr. 
Roberts of Dr. Flint, as they sat together at supper, 
Monday night at the Tremont. 

“He is much better, thank heaven!” replied the blunt- 
spoken old man; “very much better.” 

Dr. Roberts knew that a single question would suffice 
to start the ball rolling; his colleague was getting old 
and somewhat garrulous, and if he knew anything further 
about his patient he would be sure to tell it all — if any 
allusion were made to the sick capitalist, upstairs. 

“I am glad to know it,” was all he said, however, 
biding his time. 

“I wrote a letter this morning for him to his wife,” 
continued Dr. Flint, “telling her that he was safe, if 
not quite sound, and I dispatched it by a special courier 
to Texas City; if no trains are running from that point, 
it will have to be taken to Houston by the same courier. 
I guess there is no end to the old man’s money, the 
messenger gets one hundred dollars for the job and his 
expenses paid besides. If Mr. Arthur would only stop 


•190 


THE HORROR GROWS 


worrying he would soon be out. He is grieving almost 
to death over the loss of a nephew he came here to 
hunt up. It seems that the young fellow’s family had 
cast him off years ago, because he took sides with a sister 
who had married, against her parents’ will, a rather 
disreputable Italian; now, it seems that they regret their 
harshness and Mr. George Arthur, the young man’s 
mother’s brother is here to visit Arthur Stokes, and 
to beg his forgiveness for the whole family. I am afraid 
though he is a day too late— the poor young man has 
doubtless joined the majority. That sets me a*thinking 
how many of us will be just a day too late in making 
peace with our Maker.” 

“It is a sad affair all round,” remarked .Dr. Roberts; 
“still you have no proof that the young man is dead. 
Don’t give up all hope until every avenue is searched.” 

“Indeed I will not give up hope,” replied the doctor 
warmly. “In fact, Mr. Arthur has authorized me to 
take charge of' his nephew’s rooms here at the hotel and 
to have them kept intact for a month. If he is not heard 
of by that time his effects will be sent to his mother.” 

Just then, they were interrupted by the head waiter 
bringing Dr. Flint a note. 

“Humph,” he said handing it to Dr. Roberts after 
reading it himself, “will you kindly read this aloud, 
doctor, my sight is not very good.” 

“Doctor Flint,” Dr. Roberts read, “I must see you at 
once. Sleuth No. 1.” 

“Whew! this is getting interesting,” was the younger 
man’s curt comment. 


THE HORROR GROWS 


191 


**Yes/’ replied Dr. Flint excitedly, “show the man in 
here, waiter, quick, and” — to another waiter, “just dupli- 
" cate my order; not much of a meal do we .s^et at the hotel 
since the storm, but, by gad, it’s a long sight better than 
nothing at all.” 

“Shall I retire?” courteously enquired Dr. Roberts. 

“By no means,” was the prompt answer. “This fellow 
is a veritable genius of his kind, and was employed only 
Friday afternoon, by Arthur Stokes to sift to the bottom 
a matter connected with his sister’s marriage. The fact 
is there is a lad here who claims to be Stokes’ sister’s 
child and my friend engaged the detective who sent me 
this note, to investigate this claim, which, at first, looks 
positively fraudulent. Well here is the man coming. Stay, 
I entreat you, if you want to hear an interesting tale.” 

The new comer did not look like the typical detective 
Dr. Flint had just pictured, and Dr. Roberts could not 
repress a slight movement of surprise. 

“Sleuth No. 1” was a strictly up-to-date man of the 
world, who, hat in hand, bowed gracefully and said: 

“Have I the honor of speaking to Dr. Flint?” 

“You have,” said the doctor, rising and offering his 
hand. “And to whom do I owe this call?” 

“To Sleuth No. 1,” replied the detective, smiling. 

The old physician introduced the detective to Dr. 
Roberts and urged him to state the object of his call. 

“I understand there is a gentleman stopping at this 
hotel, named George Arthur, who keeps to his room 
on account of injuries received in the storm; also that 
he is the uncle of X’^our friend and my client Mr, Arthur 


192 


THE HORROR GROWS 


Stokes, who, T fear, has been lost in the tornado, as 
well as the boy Adolfo Bioudi who claimed to be his 
nephew. If such be the case and if Mr. George Arthur 
is well enough to receive me, I ask your permission to 
see him at once, or as soon as you will think him fit 
to receive a business call/’ 

“I fear,” replied Dr. Flint, ‘hhat, for at least a couple 
of days longer, my patient will not be strong enough 
to stand the fatigue of an interview. Besides, if Arthur 
Stokes and the boy who claimed to be his nephew are 
both dead, I cannot see that your business with Mr. 
Arthur could be so very urgent.” 

‘T admit that, to some extent, you are entitled to know 
my business, with your patient, as his nephew was a 
great personal friend of yours,” replied the detective. 

'T am interested, of course, in whatever pertains to 
my young friend whose fate seems to have been so terri- 
ble, but I don’t feel myself authorized, on that account, 
to ask any questions.” 

The detective read the old man’s weak point and said: 

^'Doctor, as the best friend of the late Mr. Arthur 
Stokes, my client, you are entitled to all the information 
I may possess on any subject that concerns this unfortu- 
nate gentleman.” 

Then drawing his chair closer to the table and lower- 
ing his voice he added: 

“See the elegantly dressed woman across the room, 
opposite you?” 

“Yes, what of her?” enquired Dr. Flint. 

“Well, sir, this lady arrived here Saturday morning, 


THE HORROR GROWS 


19 :^ 

and registered at this hotel. But, on account of the storm 
it was only on Sunday that she made known to me the 
purpose of her ill-timed visit to Galveston. She claims 
to be here looking after her son who, according to her 
tale, left his European home seven years ago, to come 
to America and make his fortune. She says she has 
reasons to believe that he was in this city and alive on 
the day she arrived here. Now she is in terrible distress 
in the thought that her boy may have been lost in the 
storm.” 

“What was the boy’s name,” enquired Dr. Flint, too 
impatient tO' wait for the end of the speaker’s statement. 

“Adolfo Biondi,” calmly replied the detective. 


CHAPTER XVII 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 

After recovering: from his amazement at the detective’s 
statement, that Adolfo Biondi’s mother was a guest at 
the hotel and sat at a table opposite them in the dining- 
room, Dr. Flint cleared his throat several times, then 
said to his colleague: 

“Gad, but isn’t this a surprise, doctor? Think of a 
woman coming from Florence, Italy, to hunt a boy and 
getting here in time to see the city her son lived in, 
ridden to death by a storm monster, while among the 
thousands of victims whose bodies may never be recov- 
ered, her boy’s remains are probably numbered!” Then 
he added, turning to the detective: “If your statement, 
sir, has a similar effect upon Mr. George Arthur as it 
has had upon me, it would not be wise for you to call 
upon that gentleman, in his enfeebled condition, for a 
week. Still, yt)u had better call at my room in this hotel 
at ten to-morrow morning, and if my patient is well 
enough to stand such startling news, I shall arrange 
for you to meet him. Don’t fail to call upon, me for 
any service you think I may be able to render you and 
my patient. And now, sir, I shall have to. ask you to 
excuse me, for to-night I have several professional calls 
to make.” 

The three gentlemen rose from their seats and walked 

( 194 ) 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


195 


to the office^ where, after a few more words, the party 
broke up. 

The next day, at the appointed time, Dr. Flint was 
walking- the floor of his room, with as much excitement 
as a young lover keeping his first tryst. 

His nervousness showed clearly that he had some fears 
that the detective might not come, and the minutes 
seemed hours. 

Sleuth N'o. 1 was on time, however, and the doctor 
greeted him warmly.' 

^‘And ho'W do you find your patient, this morning?’^ 
asked the detective, anxious not to waste a moment, if an 
interview with the sick man was to be granted him. 

“Aluch better than I anticipated, sir, much better, but 
I must urge upon you the importance of not exciting 
the old gentleman; he is without fever, but very nervous.” 

^‘Your warning will be heeded, my dear doctor. I 
shall proceed with the utmost caution, and you may 
depend upon it, no bad results will follow.” 

“He is my patient — ahem — oT course you understand 
— and it may be necessary — professionally — for me to 
remain in the room — in case he be seriously affected by 
the news. Have you — any — objection?” 

“Not the least, doctor. There are no secrets in this 
affair I should not trust you with; besides you are my 
late client’s friend and I certainly need your valuable 
assistance to bring things to a satisfactory termination.” 

“It’s“all right then; I can do very little to aid you in 
this matter, sir, but I am anxious to do all I can.” 


196 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


And now, the nervous old doctor led the way to Mr. 
George Arthur’s room. 

The door was open, and to the surprise of both, the 
inmate was all dressed up, sitting in a rocking chair and 
calmly reading. 

He greeted the doctor cordially and the detective with 
a “good morning, sir,” and a hand-shake, immediately 
asking him: 

‘T understand that you have come with information 

concerning some of my family. Is that so?” 

Before the detective could reply, he added: “I hope 
sir, that you have heard from my poor nephew; tell me 

without hesitation if you know him to be dead or alive?” 

Sleuth No. 1 answered without a minute’s hesitation: 

“I have a feeling, sir, that your nephew, Mr. Arthur 
Stokes, is alive; I’ll admit that I could give you no valid 
reason for my entertaining such a hope ; but my presenti- 
ments seldom deceive me. Still it is upon another sub- 
ject that I have requested an interview. It is about a 
lady, now in this hotel, who claims to be Mr. Stokes’ 
sister Marguerite.” 

“This is a most preposterous, fraudulent assertion,” 
cried the old man excitedly. “My niece Marguerite is 
thousands of miles away from here, somewhere in Italy, 
Florence, I think. She would never have enough money 
to get here, never, sir. She married a scalawag of an 
Italian, a pretended poet or musician or actor — a regular 
vagabond. This marriage was the sharne and sorrow 
of our family; it broke her people’s hearts.” 

And Mr. Arthur began walking the floor back and 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


197 


forth, unable to regain his composure. No one spoke, 
and the silence became embarrassing to the two men 
looking on. Finally Dr. Flint, after clearing his throat 
several times, arose and said: 

“Ahem! I am afraid I’ll have to leave you, gentlemen, 
or, if your interview is at an end my friend will accom- 
pany me!” 

“At an end, at an end?” exclaimed Mr. Arthur, “why 
bless you, sir, this man has told me nothing yet. Sit 
down, doctor, sit down, you are my medical adviser and 
I feel as if I might need you, any minute. Now, sir, 
will you proceed with your statement about that im- 
postor?” 

The detective coolly drew a large card from his pocket 
and handing it to Mr. Arthur said: “This is the woman’s 
photograph and a striking likeness of her at the present 
time.” 

“This is a picture of Marguerite taken before she left 
home,” was the startled reply of Mr. Arthur. “I have a 
copy of it. But the woman, sir, is an impostor just the 
same, trading, no doubt, on some fortuitous physical 
resemblance and some knowledge of Marguerite Stokes’ 
affairs. How much money does she want out of us?” 

“Not a cent, sir, not a cent. On the contrary she 
has authorized me to offer one thousand dollars for the 
recovery of the body of her son, whom she believes, 
was killed in the storm.” 

“Her boy? Well, that settles it; for Marguerite Stokes 
has no son. Besides she has never had one hundred 
dollars at one time, since she left home — But go on, man, 


198 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


go on; of course you don’t know these facts; they are 
purely family affairs. Ah, I failed to ask you what 
name the woman is masquerading under,” concluded tl^e 
old gentleman now thoroughly aroused. 

“The card she handed me bore the name of: ‘Mrs. 
Marguerite Stokes Biondi/ ” replied the detective as 
he gave Mr. Arthur a searching look. 

“Plave the woman arrested, at once, sir,” was the angry 
rejoinder. “She is a downright, dangerous fraud. She 
is using the name of my niece for some criminal purpose. 
I say, have her arrested!” 

“Under the circumstances,” replied the detective rather 
stiffly, “I have no authority to arrest the woman. As 
far as I can judge she is a lady and I am bound to 
say, that until contrary evidence is forthcoming, I believe 
her story. I thought, as you Vlainied’ to be Mr. Arthur 
Stokes’ uncle — you might be interested to know that his 
sister is in town.” 

Having delivered this parting shot, and without wait- 
ing for an answer from the dumbfounded old gentleman, 
the detective bowed himself out and walked rapidly down 
the hall. 

For a minute, Mr. Arthur was too surprised to speak, 
and, the door having been left open, watched his depart- 
ing visitor over the top of his nose-glasses. Suddenly, 
recovering his presence of mind he cried out, lustily: 

“Call that man back! Call him back, I say!” A porter 
who happened to pass, overtook the detective as he was 
hurrying down the second flight of stairs and called out: 

“The man in number thirty wants you quick, quick.” 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


199 


With a twinhle in his eye, the detective slowly retraced 
his steps. “I 'brought him to his senses/’ was his mental 
comment. 

^What is it, sir?” he asked, when he had reentered 
the room and closed the door behind him. 

“1 hope, sir/’ was the elaborately courteous answer, 
^That my words have not given you the offense that 
yours have me: I am Arthur Stokes’ uncle, sir; wno 
ever heard of an Arthur or a Stokes lying? It is simply 
preposterous, sir. It is not enough that I have to grieve 
over the tragic fate of my dear nephew, but more trouble 
must be showered upon our unfortunate family. Tell 
me, sir, what part am I supposed to take in the game 
this woman is playing? Speak out, sir, and let us be 

done with the whole matter.” 

“The lady in question is beside herself over the prob- 
able loss of her son, and it is my duty to lose no time 
in finding him, dead or alive. My object in calling upon 
you, Mr. Arthur, was to acquaint you with her presence 
in this city, and leave you to take the course you would 
judge the wisest. But I see that I made a grievous mis- 
take mentioning the matter at all.” 

“Not in the least, sir; you acted right, sir; I am truly 
glad you came; still I believe the woman is an impostor. 
I do not propose tO' worry any longer about her, but 
I hope you will dO' me the favor to hunt up my nephew 
while looking about for this woman’s boy, and I will 
give you two thousand dollars for his body dead or alive. 
Poor, poor Arthur, to think I came here as a family 
peace-maker and find my favorite nephew — dead — killed 


200 


A M'EETING TAKES PLACE 


two nights ago by that devouring monster! What! do 
you hesitate, sir? Now, don’t refuse me. I have not 
recovered sufficiently from the awful experiences of 
fifteen hours through wind and wave, to be out and 
acting as I should like to; and so I must depend on 
others doing for me that which I am momentarily in- 
capacited from undertaking. Why, man, I am cut in 
a hundred ^ places and bruised all over. I know, you 
will do me the favor of taking charge of this matter,” 
pleaded the old man, pathetically. 

“I am afraid I can do nothing for you, at present; I 
am now in the employ of Mrs. Biondi and I cannot 
serve two masters at one time,” replied the detective. 

‘Well then. Dr. Flint, I will have to trouble you to 
secure the services of some bright city officer to make 
a systematic search for my poor nephew.” 

“I will do my best, Mr. Arthur, my very best,” 
answered the physician, “but I cannot give you very 
much encouragement about getting police officers to aid 
us in this arduous task. I called at headquarters yester- 
day, about noon, to enlist some central detective’s serv- 
ices for the very same purpose, and the chief told me 
that it would be impossible at present for any of his men 
to get out on private duty; that the force was inadequate 
to protect life and property. In fact while I was there 
the sheriff was swearing in scores of deputies.” 

“Then, sir,” said Mr. Arthur, mournfully, “I am left 
all alone with my sorrow. No one will aid me for 
humanity’s sake or for money; I never expected to find 
myself in such straits, never, never — ” 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


201 


‘‘Don’t despair, Mr. Arthur,” exclaimed Dr. Flint, 
touched by the old man’s utter break-down, “I will 
undertake personally to make as thoroug’h a search for 
Mr. Stokes as can be done under the circumstances, 
and I will offer a reward of fifty dollars to anyone who 
brings me word about him,” said Dr. Flint. 

“And when I find Adolfo Biondi, dead or alive, sir, 

I will be entirely at your service,” said the detective, 
evidently greatly moved by Mr. Arthur’s piteous tone. 

His offer did not, however, have the desired effect, 
for Mr. Arthur replied curtly: 

“Attend to your female impostor, sir, don’t trouble 
yourself further a'bout my affairs.” 

At that point, Dr. Flint opened the door in response 
to a knock. 

Dr. Roberts was standing in the hall, and cried out 
as soon as he beheld his colleague: 

“Hallo! you at last. Dr. Flint! I have been hunting , 
for you all over the building. Pardon me, Mr. Arthur, 
for intruding on you. I am glad to see you on your feet 
and better. And you, sir,” speaking to the detective, 
“I was looking for you also. I want your assistance on 
an urgent matter. There was a boy very badly injured, 
out at Mr. Robinson’s; late last night, when I called, 
he was doing well. On my return there, this morning, 

I found the household in confusion — the boy had van- 
ished. I am afraid he grew delirious and wandered off 
during the night. On my way back to town, I have 
told a number of people to look out for him and to bring 


202 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


him back to Mr. Robinson’s. He is the same boy who 
pulled you out, .Mr. Arthur,” he added. 

“Is that true? He is a plucky chap; I hope he will 
come to no harm. It seems we all have our arms full/’ 
thoughtfully replied Mr. Arthur. 

“Did you learn the lad’s name and can you describe 
him?” asked the detective, taking note book and pencil 
out of his pocket. 

Mr. Arthur looked at him with indignant surprise, and 
it was only with an effort that he refrained from speaking. 

Dr. Roberts replied slowly, stopping often to see the 
effect his words were producing upon the three men in 
the room. 

“I can describe him, quite well. He was a foreigner, 
Italian I think. I should judge about seventeen or 
eighteen years old, but looking very small and boyish 
for his age. He had large black eyes — beautiful ey^s 
they were — plentiful black hair and a dark olive com- 
plexion.” 

“But his name?” said the detective, “did you learn it?” 

“The little girl there, Isabelle Phelps, called him 
Adolfo.” 

“What?” exclaimed Mr. Arthur and Dr. Flint in one 
voice. “Adolfo, and an Italian? But that don’t mean 
much after all; there are probably a hundred Adolfos 
in this cit}^,” added Mr. Arthur. 

“His other name?” coolly queried the detective. 

Before Dr. Roberts could answer, Mr. Arthur ex- 
claimed: “By Jiminy, I remember now, the boy told 
me his name was Adolfo Biondi. Find him, sir, find 


On Mo.iday, September loth, commenced the gathering of the dead. 





A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


205 


him, at any cost, I might have known the lad had Arthur 
blood in his veins, by his pluck. And bring the woman 
to me! The worhcm who claims to be his mother. Do 
you hear, sir, do you hear? Bring the woman to me!” 
The surprise overpowered Mr. Arthur and he sank 
into his chair in a swoon. 

‘‘As I expected,” said Dr. Flint, in a huff, “as I ex- 
pected, as I expected. All this excitement has been 
too much for him.” 

“I regret very much coming in if I am the cause of 
this little indisposition,” said Dr. Roberts as he helped 
the two men lay the unconscious man on the bed. 

While the doctors were applying restoratives, the de- 
tective looking on, unmoved, asked: “And the lad’s 
name, Dr. Roberts, did you learn it?” 

“Yes,” whispered the doctor, “Miss Phelps was quite 
herself this morning and When I questioned her about 
the boy’s name, she replied: ‘His name is Adolfo 
Biondi.’” 

“Then I am confident this boy is the same one I am 
looking for,” exclaimed Sleuth No. 1, “and in that case, 
the mother of the lad is this man’s niece and it is my duty 
to tell her that her uncle is here, ill in his room, and 
has expressed a desire to see her. But, proud as she is, 

I doubt if I can succeed in getting her to come to him.” 

“What do you think, Dr. Roberts?” asked the older 
physician. “Would it be prudent to have the lady 
brought up here right away? The sudden meeting might , 
kill him.” 



206 


A MEETING TAKES PLACE 


‘‘Still, he has asked for her,” replied Dr. Roberts, “and 
it seems to me that now is an opportune time.” 

“But if she should be an impostor after all?” queried 
Dr. Flint. 

“If she is she will refuse to come,” said the detective; 
“I will go at once and test her.” 

Before either had time to protest or consent. Sleuth 
No. 1, had stepped out of the room and was hurrying 
through the hall. 

Mr. Arthur recovered his senses in a few moments and 
raising himself up said: 

“Bring her here, bring her here! Poor Marguerite, 
if she is the woman, I will forgive her. Poor Arthur 
loved his wayward sister so tenderly!” 

Just at that moment, the detective entered the room 
accompanied by Mrs. Marguerite Biondi. 

The lady, tall and shapely, dressed in deep black, and 
her handsome face bearing the marks of sorrow and 
anxiety, stopped at the door, looked inquiringly at the 
two doctors, then, her eyes falling upon the man on the 
bed, she hastened forward and exclaiming, 

“Dear Uncle George!” she threw her arms around 
his neck and burst into tears. He raised her face in his 
hands and cried: “It is Marguerite, God bless you, my 
dear, dear child!” 

The three men silently withdrew. 


CHAPTER XVIIL 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 

All Tuesday afternoon and Wednesday morning, the 
two doctors and the detective spent every moment of 
their time in search of Adolfo. But they met with no 
success; the lad was nowhere to be found. 

In fact, the information gathered concerning the van- 
ished boy was of the slimmest. With the exception of 
those he had rescued and the persons in attendance 
upon them at the Robinson home, only one individual 
in the whole city had seen and spoken to Adolfo Biondi 
since the fatal Saturday evening. Dr. Roberts having 
called at Colonel McCaleb’s office to enquire if that 
gentleman knew anything ol the boy’s whereabouts the 
officer replied: 

“Adolfo came here, yesterday afternoon, and I hardly 
knew him for his rags and bandages. He had a queer 
look in his eye as he gave me the military salute and said : 
T held onto it, as long as I could. Colonel.’ Fearing 
the boy had lost his mind, I asked what he meant, then 
he told me in pathetic terms how he had tried to save our 
regimental flag, and how, on Sunday morning, at day- 
break, the staff was broken into a thousand pieces before 
his very eyes and^-the fragments swept off to the Gulf.” 

“And where is he now?” asked the doctor, quite moved 
by this new tale of bravery. 

( 207 ) 


208 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


“That I cannot say/’ the colonel answered regretfully; 
“my work has kept me so busy since Sunday I have 
not been able to give the boy a thought.” 

“Do you know anything about the lad; his original 
home, or his family?” asked the doctor. 

“About his family, nothing, but the boy told me that 
his home was in Florence, Italy. He did once mention 
the fact that he had relatives in the United States, though 
he did not seem to know where to look for them. He 
is a good, honest young fellow, I can say that much for 
him,” concluded the colonel. 

Relating the conversation to Dr. Flint and the detec- 
tive when the three met at dinner to compare notes. Dr. 
Roberts said: “I am afraid the poor bOy is wandering 
around half crazy and that he may. yet die from the 
effects of the great storm.” 

“It takes more than one would think to cause such a 
plucky fellow to lose his mind,” remarked the detective, 
“and I for one believe that Adolfo will be found soon^ — 
safe and sound. By the way, I called at Mr. Robinson’s, 
to see what I could find out from Isabelle Phelps and 
her aunt, a very attractive young woman. I don’t won- 
der at Mr. Arthur Stokes being madly in love with such 
a splendid creature and risking his life to save her.” 

“It is too bad that such an exceptionally fine man, 
should come to his death, so early in life and under such 
terrible circumstances,” added Dr. Flint. “Arthur was 
a noble fellow and besides regretting him as a dear per- 
sonal friend, I am deeply sorry for his people here. A 
strange, dramatic affair all around, very dramatic!” 


Carting the dead to the tow-boat Cynthia, to be sunk into the Gulf. 






* 









THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO ' 


211 


‘‘Did you visit my male patient while at the Robin- 
sons’?’’ asked Dr. Roberts of the detective. 

“I did not. I was told that he was very ill and that 
you had left strict orders for no one but the nurse to 
come near him,” answered Sleuth No. 1. 

'‘Had I known that you intended making the call I 
woidd have given you a permit to see him. For, I 
will tell you now — somehow — I have a peculiar presenti- 
ment that my patient is no other than Arthur Stokes 
himself!” 

"Arthur Stokes!” cried both bystanders. "Why, don’t 
you know him personally?” 

"I never saw the gentleman to my knowledge — never,” 
replied Dr. Roberts. 

"Perhaps — in fact — the more I think of it — I actually 
believe your patient is Arthur!” exclaimed Dr. Flint, 
excitedly. 

"I shalL order a carriage at once, and as soon as we 
are through dinner we shall drive out to Mr. Robinson’s 
and see the invalid,” said the detective, giving necessary 
instructions to the head waiter. 

When the three gentlemen were leaving the dining- 
room, they met Mr. George Arthur entering with Mrs. 
Biondi on his arm. 

Both looked happy and were talking gaily. 

"There is peace in the family,” whispered the detec- 
tive in Dr. Roberts’ ear. 

They shook hands cordially all around, and Mr. 
Arthur said addressing the detective: 

"I owe the recovery of my dear niece to you, sir. Have 


212 THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 

you any information about my dear nephew and my 
great-nephew, Adolfo?” 

‘^None of a precise nature, sir,” answered the detective. 

‘'But we think we know where Arthur is,” added Dr. 
Flint excitedly. 

“Alive?” asked Mr. Arthur. 

“Alive, but very ill,” commented Dr. Roberts, who 
now felt a little guilty for not having made known that 
gentleman’s place of refuge two days earlier. “The 
moment we ascertain the real facts in the matter, we 
will let you and Mrs. Biondi know all,” concluded Dr. 
Roberts. 

“And Adolfo, what of him?” asked Mrs. Biondi. “Tell 
me the truth, whatever it be, as soon as it reaches you. 
I can stand anything better than this awful suspense.” 

“Your will is law,” gallantly replied the detective; as 
the three men passed on leaving uncle and niece to take 
their places in the dining hall. 

Dr. Roberts felt that while possibly he had not done 
absolutely right in keeping everyone in ignorance of 
Mr. Arthur Stokes’ place of refuge or of the fact that this 
young, wealthy and much sought-after man was alive, 
he had added greatly to the chances of recovery of his 
patient by isolating him from emotions and visits that 
would have used up the little strength left in him. 

Anyway, Arthur was in his right mind only part of 
the time and his fever was not conquered. Still his 
devoted physician felt that the worst had passed and 
that, in a few days, the poor sufferer would be quite 
himself again. Of course, weeks of careful nursing would 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


213 


be required, to bring’ him back to the full enjoyment of 
his former, rugged health. Tlie doctor knew the young 
man’s love affair now thoroughly and at the proper 
moment he would arrange a meeting between the former 
fiances so miraculously re-united. At present such an 
interview might prove disastrous. 

Besides the injuries she had sustained, Mary Phelps 
had received a nervous shock from which she would not 
completely recover for months. As soon as she would 
be able to be up and around, then, and only then, could 
Dr. Roberts permit a meeting to take place. 

When the three men drove out to the Robinson home, 
a most circuitous route had to be adopted, as the awful 
wreckage -left by the storm, made some roads quite im- 
passable. Their getting there at all without serious 
mishap was solely due to the prudence and skill of their 
driver. 

As they were driven by an enormous pile of debris, 
crews of men were searching for bodies. 

One of the gang gazed with blanched face at a large 
man some of the others had dug out and placed on the 
heap, and recognizing the figure he cried: 

“This is Judge Phelps! He lived near me on East 
Broadway.” 

The party in the carriage had stopped and alighted. 
They all knew the judge and felt deeply the loss the 
community was suffering from in the death of this ex- 
cellent citizen. 

“A fearful sight,” remarked Dr. Roberts. “We must 
keep this sad discovery from Miss Phelps’ knowledge. 


214 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


He was her uncle and the father of sweet little Isabefle/* 
Putting a five dollar bill into the hand of the man who 
had recognized the corpse, the doctor added: “Take 
this body to the undertakers and say that I order it 
kept in their charge, until I give directions for its burial.” 

“I have great fears,” said Dr. Plint, after they had 
resumed their drive, “that the judge’s wife is also among 
the victims; out of respect for this family with whom we. 
three were so closely associated, we must recover the 
body of the child’s mother and give to both her parents 
a decent burial — and — another thing — it is terrible to 
think of poor George Boyessen’s remains thrown promis- 
cuously in a cart full of unknown, mutilated corpses. 
If I see much more of these awful horrors, T believe I 
shall lose my mind!” and the old physician could not 
help shuddering. 

“And is it not too awful to conceive that any human 
being could be fiendish enough to rob the dead?” said 
the detective, “and yet white and black ghouls, side by 
side are doing these abominable deeds.” 

“Will the sad, sad story ever be told in full? Can it 
ever be told in full?” asked Dr. Flint, wiping his eyes; 
and he answered his own question: “No, one hundred 
gifted writers could not, in a score of years’ time, depict 
one half of the destruction wrought by the monster, of 
the agony suffered by its victims, of the sorrow in the 
bosoms of those who are left behind. Poor, proud 
Galveston, now heartsore from weeping for her dead, will 
soon raise her grief-stricken head, and looking up to the 
cloudless sky and the peaceful waters of the beautiful 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


215 


Gulf will exclaim: ‘We for^^ive you for the destruction 
you have wrought upon our beautiful city, and while we 
cannot forget, we will again buckle on our armor, this 
time more securely, and, on the spot, where these ruins 
now lie we will build a city which shall be the pride of 
the nation.’ No, gentlemen, we will never give up the 
ship,” concluded the old physician in a vibrating voice 
that sounded like a trumpet blast. 

^'Nor the search for Adolfo,” added the detective, who 
was, if anything, matter-of-fact and unemotional. 

*‘No,” replied the two physicians in a breath. 

have a feeling I cannot explain that Adolfo is too 
plucky a fellow to come to any harm,” added Dr. 
Roberts. '‘And the mere fact that he was seen yesterday 
by Col. McCaleb should give us hope. I saw Bob, Mr. 
Stokes’ office boy, this morning, and I told him if he 
could bring me a word about Adolfo I would give him 
five dollars in the name of his former employer; and 
what do you think the stout little chap replied: ‘I, take 
five dollars from Mr. Stokes or his friend? No sir. If 
it had not been for him I should have lost my mother 
and sisters; no sir, I shall find Adolfo if I can, but I will 
not take a V to do it.” 

"When he is found, he will likely be performing some 
deed of heroism instead of running about crazy,” affirmed 
the detective. 

Just at this moment, the driver drew up in front of 
Mr. Robinson’s house and all alighted. 

A brief conference was held outside and it was de^- 


§16 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


cided that first the detective, then Dr. Flint would call 
upon the sick man. 

As soon as the door was opened, in answer to the bell, 
Isabelle ran out to meet Dr. Roberts, and declared that 
her aunty was all right again, and was sitting in a rocking 
chair. Bert, the gardener, showed the detective into the 
sick man’s room and Dr. Roberts took Dr. Flint to see 
Mary Phelps. 

The poor young lady was still very pale, and so weak 
she could scarcely hold her head up; she was also very 
nervous, and now that she could talk, and, to some 
extent, was herself again, she was full of enquiry about 
the storm and its results. 

‘Tn a few days, Miss Phelps, you will be able to go 
for a drive, then I will go with you to inspect the ravages 
of the monster,” said Dr. Roberts. 

“No-, no,” she cried, “I can never go out to behold 
the awful sight. The glimpse I get of it, from these win- 
dows, is quite enough. I do not believe that anyone 
who pdssed through that awful night and found himself, 
or herself, an orphan, and all the loved ones gone, will 
ever be able to smile again.” 

“Do not despair, my dear Miss Phelps,” was the kindly 
reply of the older physician, “everything will look 
brighter in a few days. We are now in hopes of finding 
Adolfo, the brave lad to whom you owe your life and 
your other friends’ lives.” 

“Whose lives? Which friends?” the girl asked, ex- 
citedly, leaning forward and repeating the words. 
“Which friends? Dear doctor, if any one whom I love 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


217 


is saved da not keep me in suspense. I beg of you, tell 
me the whole truth, right now.” 

'‘The moment we are sure that any of your friends 
who passed through the storm are living, we will let you 
know, Miss Phelps,” replied Dr. Roberts. 

Just then, Isabelle, running into the room leading little 
Tom, cried out: 

“See, aunty, this is little Tom, my new friend, and 
such a nice, nice boy; his mamma and papa were both 
lost in the storm. I am going to get Adolfo to let him 
live with us.” 

No eye in the room was free from tears and the en- 
trance of Mrs. Robinson with Bert bringing in refresh- 
ments for Miss Phelps, only prevented an outburst of 
suppressed feelings. 

“Where is my Adolfo, Dr. Roberts?” asked the inno- 
cent child. 

The doctor was hesitating before replying — for he 
could not answer the question as he wanted to — ^when 
Bert came to the relief of all, by saying: 

“I got a note from him just now. Do you want to 
read it, doctor?” 

Dr. Roberts took the note eagerly and read aloud: 

“I am busy here in town, helping around, the best 
I can. A trained nurse will be up to-morrow to take 
care of the sick at the Robinson home; that will help 
to relieve you. The nurse’s name is Miss Cora Kimbro, 
of Houston; she came in with General Scurry and the 
soldiers; with her help our three friends will get well. 
Look out for Isabelle! Adolfo/’ 


218 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


“Characteristic of the boy/’ remarked Dr. Roberts. 
“Now, young miss, your question is answered. Adolfo 
says he is somewhere about town.” 

“This will make his mother happy,” said Mr. Robin- 
son. 

“His mother? Does she live here?” asked Miss 
Phelps. 

“At present, she is here. She came to town the morn- 
ing of our disaster, on a quest for her son. Think of a 
trip from Florence, Italy, ending on such a fateful day!” 
replied Mrs. Robinson. 

“Florence, Italy, that is where poor Marguerite lives. 
Arthur’s sister! Poor, poor Arthur!” Mary Phelps had 
spoken aloud, not conscious of the fact. 

Dr. Flint coughed nervously and after fidgeting in 
his chair, said: 

“The lady of whom Mrs. Robinson speaks, Miss 
Phelps, ahem, is the sister of a young man who, up to 
last Saturday, was doing business in Galveston.” 

“Mr. Arthur Stokes,” said Mrs. Robinson, greatly* to 
the doctor’s relief. 

Miss Phelps was too surprised to move, but exclaimed: 
“Marguerite Stokes here! In Galveston! And I not 
know it! She, Adolfo’s mother? Why it’s impossible!” 

“It is the truth, just the same,” stated Dr. Flint. 

“And if you wish. Miss Phelps, we will bring her and 
her uncle, Mr. George Arthurj to see you,” added Dr. 
Roberts. 

“By all means, bring Marguerite, and as soon as pos- 
sible. But how came her uncle to be here? The family 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO .219 

were not on speaking terms with either Marguerite or 
Arthur, her brother/’ 

‘'But they are now,” said the detective, who had, for 
some minutes, been standing at the door a listener. 
“And, doctor, if you will permit me to take the lead in 
these momentous matters, I think we had better go now.” 

So, assuring Miss Phelps that her long lost friend 
would be with her soon, the three visitors left the young 
lady to recover from the effect of their partial revelations. 

“She stood the news better than I imagined she 
would,” said Dr. Roberts when the men had re-entered 
their carriage. 

“It is a strange affair all around,” remarked the de^ 
tective; “your male patient in this house, is certainly my 
client, Arthur Stokes, but the change in his general ap- 
pearance is amazing. Indeed he must have undergone 
extraordinary experiences. Still, he recognized me, and 
enquired if I had found the boy whom he insists calling 
an impostor.' When I told him that the poor lad was 
supposed to be lost, he said : ‘It may be wicked for me 
to say so, but I am not sorry; an impostor has no right 
to live.’ 

“Mr. Stokes very much resembles his uncle,” con- 
tinued the detective, “and will be as hard to convince 
as that old gentleman, but with the proof at hand of 
the lad’s identity I believe he will be rejoiced to take 
the poor boy to his bosom. At the present moment 
Adolfo is more an object of pity than anyone concerned. 
Poor boy, I wonder what he will dO' when he knows the 
good fortune in store for him. He certainly deserves 


220 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


it all and more too/’ concluded the detective, adding, 
after a minute of silence: “When do you think he will 
be well enough. Dr. Roberts, to see his sister? I am 
speaking of Arthur Stokes.” 

“Well, that depends largely upon how strong his con- 
stitution is. Just now any great excitement would do him 
great injury — might even af¥ect his brain,” was the phy- 
sician’s cautious answer. 

“In the morning, we shall have Mrs. Biondi call upon 
Miss Phelps, and after we see what effect the meeting 
between these two ladies has upon the ailing one, we 
shall be better able to determine how much longer to 
wait before telling Arthur Stokes the good news in store 
for him,” said the detective. 

“From every source, we hear of Adolfo’s ^deeds of 
heroism. The chap will be the family hero, when he 
comes into his own, and for generations to come his 
valiant actions will be told with pride to eager listeners,” 
remarked Dr. Roberts, with undisguised enthusiasm. 

“My heart aches for poor, sweet little Isabelle for the 
loss of her -father and mother,” set in Dr. Flint, who had 
known the older Phelps for many years. “She has al- 
ready made in her heart an idol of Adolfo. Think of 
her trust in the boy! Such faith as hers is what one 
needs to witness once in a while to restore one’s con- 
fidence in mankind and to revive the shaken belief in 
a God — for if this fearful calamity was not enough to 
wreck one’s belief in a God of love I do not know what 
would do it.” 

“Well said, doctor,” approved the detective, “Hallo, 


THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


m 


who is that hailing us, over there? Driver, stop a mo- 
ment, please.” 

As the carriage came to a halt, one of a crew of men 
working close by came to the door of the closed vehicle, 
and addressing himself to Dr. Roberts said: 

“You are the physician who ordered the body of Judge 
Phelps taken tO' the undertakers, are you not?” 

“I am,” replied the doctor. “Did you have any trouble 
in making the arrangements?” 

“None at all, it’s all right, so far,” replied the man, 
“I only stopped you to say that we have recovered his 
wife’s body on another pile of wreckage close by.” 

“How did you identify her?” asked Dr. Roberts. 

“Come,” said the man, “and see for yourself.” 

The three men hurriedly accompanied the man in his 
grewsome quest. There, on the top of a large pile of 
debris w'hich covered the space of three or more blocks, 
where, only a few days ago, stood dozens of beautiful 
homes, they gazed upon Mrs. Judge Phelps’ body, her 
garments torn into shreds, her head mashed to a jelly 
under a great beam; her lower limbs crushed and one 
arm clean gone. They afterwards learned, that fro-m 
under this chaos of shapeless wreckage over one thou- 
sand corpses had been dug out. 

“There is a gold dhain around her neck,” said the 
fellow who had led them to the spot, “and on it is a large 
locket which contains her picture and her husband’s; 
on the back of the locket their initials are engraved 
clearly enough.” 

“Poor little Isabelle!” sighed Dr. Roberts'! “She must 


222 THE SEAU€H FOR ADOLFO 

never know of the awful sig*!!! her dear, kind mamma 
presented after death.” 

On the hand of the -remaining arm, they discovered 
the lady’s wedding ring. Dr. Roberts removed it, as 
well as the gold chain and locket, and giving both in 
the charge of Dr. Flint he said: 

“These are all the child will have to remind her of 
her mother,” and addressing the foreman of the gang 
at work on this particular heap of debris, he added: 
“Remove this body, sir, as quickly as possible to the 
place where her husband’s body is lying; have them put 
in suitable coffins, and later on we will call for their 
remains and have them properly buried. Please tell the 
undertakers that the whole cost is to be billed to me,” 
and he handed his card for identification. 

The three men entered the carriage again and were 
driven rapidly to the center of the city. 

As soon as the necessary permits for burial could be 
obtained, and the bodies of Judge and Mrs. Phelps made 
ready for the last rites — which, under the circumstances, 
was a matter of less than an hour, the three men drove 
slowly behind the hearse, in which lay a double coffin, 
to the place where the city’s dead were wont to be buried. 

With the assistance of the drivers and another man, 
who carried the necessary tools for such purposes, a 
grave was dug and the plain coffin which contained all 
that remained of beautiful little Isabelle’s parents was 
lowered into its dark and silent tomb. A Iiigh mound 
was soon made, and after driving a board at the head 













THE SEARCH FOR ADOLFO 


225 


of the grave, and marking on it provisionally the names 
O'f the inmates, the mourners returned citywards, won- 
dering what new, disheartening duty they would soon 
be called upon to perform. 


CHAPTER XIX 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 

Few persons have any knowledge of what it means 
to live in a city under miartial law, so it happened that 
many peaceful, law-abiding citizens, felt really fright- 
ened out of their wits when the following notice appeared 
in the Galveston papers, and was posted in conspicuous 
places throughout the township: 

“Under the authority committed to me by the statutes 
of the State of Texas and the charter of the City of 
Galveston, I hereby declare the City of Galveston under 
martial law. Adjutant General Scurry is placed in ab- 
solute control of the military, and all city and county 
officers must co-operate with him. On and after this 
date, all residents of the city, without special passes, must 
be off the streets before ten o’clock at night. 

Walter C. Jones, Mayor.” 

Later in the day, orders were issued that no persons 
would be allowed to carry arms unless they were mem- 
bers of the sheriff’s posse, special police officers or regu- 
lar policemen. 

These orders had been made necessary for the secure 
protection of life and property throughout the afflicted 
district. 

The storm of Saturday had destroyed the largest part 
( 226 ) 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 


227 


of the food supplies in. the city at the time, and up to 
the following Thursday noon no provisions of any kind 
had been received; although news had reached the dev- 
astated city that the long trains full of food, medicine and 
clothing sent out by the big-hearted New York Herald, 
Nezv York Journal and Chicago American were on their 
way to the relief of the sufferers; and to the stricken 
city they arrived the following day. 

The military protection of thfi people had become an 
absolute necessity, for pilfering and rioting had already 
begun, the participants, however, being only from the 
lowest elements of both the black and white populace. 

Several cases had been reported of these wretches be- 
ing found robbing the dead and mutilating the bodies 
in a horrible manner, if they could not succeed otherwise 
in wresting from the swollen corpses, rings, earrings, etc. 

One man told of seeing a large blond woman her hair 
caught in a barbwire fence to which she hung with only 
a few rags on her body. Her fingers and ears were 
adorned with large valuable diamonds. He ran about one 
half a block away to get assistance to cut her hair loose 
and remove the corpse, but when he returned her jewels 
were gone — torn from her ears, and her fingers cut off. 

Such horrible instances of vandalism became so fre- 
quent and were so boldly performed that finally the 
soldiers on patrol were ordered to shoot down on the 
spot anyone caught robbing the dead. 

Under this new, stringent regime, order came out of 
confusion. 

Several worthless persons who refused to assist in 


228 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 


handling the dead unless paid an exorbitant price, were 
shot full of bullets and their carcasses thrown on top 
of carts full of bodies and dumped into the sea. 

As one of the most grewsome incidents of this horrible 
week, many of the corpses thus disposed of were washed 
back to the shore and had to be buried a second time. 

After several such experiences, it became a serious 
question of how to dispose of the dead. The task w'hich 
had been ghastly from the first, now grew to be danger- 
ous, as, every day, the decay of the mutilated bodies 
threatened the city with the most frightful pestilence. 
By that time, volunteers or paid help for that purpose 
were harder and harder to secure, and the authorities 
had to have recourse to the indiscriminate enrollment 
of citizens and idle visitors, as well as soldiers to form 
burying squads. But, even then, it was soon found 
impossible to bury the hundreds of corpses dug out of 
the wreckage every day; and the final plan which 
proved to be the most effective was to burn all bodies 
on the very spot where found. Soon, from every section 
of the city, could be seen the smoke of funeral piles, con- 
taining from one to twenty bodies each. 

For half a week, on the beautiful white sands of the 
beach, here and there, for over a mile, a hundred or more 
of these funeral piles burned night and day. 

From, the progress made, the first day Galveston 
passed under military rule, the faintest hearts in the city 
grew confident again and hopes for a bright future 
sprang up on all sides. 



■ An African ghoul at his fiendish work, 








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GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 231 


“Galveston will live!’* was now the universal cry, “our 
beautiful city by the sea will not perish !” 

Repairing was going on in every direction; the famine 
of water was a thing of the past; food was coming in 
large quantities and the evils resulting from hunger 
were thus avoided. 

The streets were being cleared and disinfected; the 
dead removed and burnt. 

A great nation sorrowed with the bereaved city, and 
when the hearts of the people at large opened with words 
of sympathy their purse strings also were loosened with 
wide generosity. 

Galveston buried by the sea, cut off from the main 
land was not forgotten a moment by her sister cities 
in this blessed republic. Indeed the whole nation 
hastened to her to cheer and to help, until the weak, the 
famished, the heart-broken, were made strong and hope- 
ful again. 

On the very day and hour when the detective and 
the two physiciaris had visited the Robinson home and 
gathered there so much joyful information, Mr. George 
Arthur, now able to be up and doing, was walking down 
Tremont street accompanied by his niece; not to see 
the ruins, for both wished they might forever shut out 
the grewsome sight from their eyes; but for recreation 
and a change of air. 

When they reached Post Office street, Mr. Arthur and 
his niece stopped for some moments in silence looking 
at the frightful wreckage. 

Then Mrs. Biondi’s uncle said: “My dear, we are now 


‘232 GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 

on Post Office street, a stone’s throw from Arthur 
Stokes’ office.” 

“We must walk past it,” was the sorrowful answer 
of his companion; “I want to see with my own eyes 
the spot where the poor boy spent so many hours at 
work — and, I know, often thinking of his poor, far-away 
sister. Dear uncle, do you think it possible that he is 
alive? I cannot imagine him dead; but my own poor 
boy, I think of him every moment, as lying dead and 
crushed under a pile of debris, or else carried to a briny 
grave with hundreds of unknown corpses.” 

“Your son, dear Marguerite, has been seen not later 
than yesterday by Dr. Roberts’ informant. Colonel 
McCaleb. And you must not forget that he was not 
killed in the storm, and that it is to his heroism that I 
owe my‘ life. Perhaps the lad has found friends and is 
staying with them, exhausted by his many brave deeds. 
You must remember the place he called his home was 
washed away by the waves. There is no clue our three 
faithful friends will leave uninvestigated. But it all takes 
time, dear Marguerite.” 

Mr. Arthur, impatient and often erratic himself, was 
tender, loving and patient when one whom he loved was 
in trouble. The afflicted mother by his side answered: 

“I do not forget, dear uncle, how kindly and skilfully 
our friends are working in our interest; but, after all my 
trouble, it seems as if the prospect of any happiness for 
me was all a delusion and a snare.” 

‘^As to Arthur,” resumed the uncle, meditatively, “I 
am of the opinion, that being nursed for some serious 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 


233 


injuries, he is laid up somewhere, and that before many 
more days we shall hear from him.” 

Just then, a boy stqpped near the couple, and said, as 
he watched them gazing at the ruins: 

‘'That was our office, sir; I tell you I lost a good job 
when the storm swooped upon this town; but we are 
all safe at home, so I am not complaining.” 

“Of wihat office are you talking aboul;, boy?” was 
Mr. Arthur’s kindly query, for the bright face of the 
little chap interested him at once. 

“Why of our office, Mr. Stokes’ and mine,” replied 
Bob, for it was our cheery friend of the first chapter. 

“Mr. Stokes’ office boy!” exclaimed Mrs. Biondi. 

“Yes, ma’am. Bob, Mr. Stokes’ office boy, 'and if Mr. 
Stokes had not given me ten dollars and told me to go 
home Saturday afternoon, mother and the girls would 
have been surely drowned. But with the two fivers, I got 
a dray and brought them all to the Court House, and 
then I brought another load of friends, and everyone else 
who could climb on board. That same afternoon I went 
to the Tremont and wanted Mr. Stokes to let me bring 
in his girl’s folks out on East Broadway. But, he would- 
n’t have it and told me to run back to mother, as I was 
too small to be away from her during such a stormy 
night.” 

Words could not express the surprise of the boy’s two 
listeners. 

Mrs. Biondi trembled with excitement as she asked: 

“And did you go to your mother, as he told you to. 
Bob? And did you see Mr. Stokes again, or have you 


234 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 


heard anything of him since the storm? Speak, boy, 
tell us everything you know/’ 

Much surprised by the extraordinary interest this 
handsome lady was taking in his simple story, Bob 
looked up at Mrs. Biondi and slowly answered: 

'U did go to mother, all right, and it was well I did 
so, or she would have gone crazy. I did not see Mr. 
Stokes again; and I have not heard anything of him 
since. And I tell you, .ma’am, I have been looking out 
for him every place I could think of — and — I think,” 
here the boy’s eyes filled with tears and his lips trembled 
— “ 1 — ^think — he is lost. You see, at about six o’clock, 
he went out in ’a carriage with his friend, Mr. Boyessen, 
after his girl, and they were lost.” 

”But how do you know they were lost, boy,”^agerly 
inquired Mr. Arthur. 

'‘Oh, on Sunday, I saw Mr. Boyessen’s body at the 
undertaker’s along side of Lucinda’s who prophesied the 
storm, his death and her own,” answered Bob. 

"Whose death, boy?” asked Mr. Arthur. 

"Mr. Boyessen’s,” said Bob. "He was terribly scared 
about the old colored woman’s prophecy. I heard him 
talking about it with Mr. Stokes, Friday afternoon at the 
office. And then Adolfo told me.” 

"What is it I hear?” exclaimed Mrs. Biondi. "The 
boy is making me wild with his news.” 

"I will stop then,” said Bob, contritely, "I am sorry 
I hurt you, ma’am.” 

She quickly replied: "But you did not hurt me. Bob; 
please go on, tell us all — all.” 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 


235 


Mr. Arthur, striving bravely to control his emotion, 
asked soothingly: 

“Bob, what about this boy you call Adolfo?” 

“Adolfo told me about Lucinda’s prophecy, that’s all.” 

“Adolfo who?” asked the mother, beside herself with 
joy at hearing something of her boy. “Adolfo who, my 
little man?” 

“An Italian boy, what has no folks that will claim 
him.” 

“His name, boy, his name,” impatiently asked Mrs. 
Biondi. 

“His name? I thought I told you! He calls himself 
Adolfo Biondi.” 

“And where is he now?” Mrs. Biondi cried, catching 
Bob by the arm and shaking him vigorously. 

“I don’t know,” said Bob, growing very much ex- 
cited himself. “Gospel truth, I have' no idea where he 
is now, but — ” and he hesitated, “I know where he was 
yesterday.” 

“Then why not tell?” asked Mr. Arthur, showing 
anger. 

“Because I promised Adolfo I wouldn’t say a word 
about it,” said Bob, now much frightened, but deter- 
mined not to give up his friend’s secret, until sure that 
it would be for the latter’s benefit. 

“Why did he not want you to tell?” asked Mrs. Biondi, 
quickly realizing that gentle treatment would have to be 
used or they would learn nothing further. 

‘Tell us, boy, you need not be afraid — we are his 


236 GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 

friends, and want to find Adolfo and help him/’ added 
Mr. Arthur, 

“If you swear you will be g’ood to Adolfo Fll tell you 
the secret/’ was the unhoped-for answer. 

Uncle and niece were now much amused at the boy’s 
solemn tone,, and Mr. Arthur replied in their joint 
names : 

“We positively affirm that it is our honest intention 
to do Adolfo all manner of good if we only find him.” 

“Well then,” said Bob, “Adolfo is at work now, earn- 
ing all the money he can, to provide for a woman and 
a little girl he rescued during the great storm. Both 
have no home and all their folks are drowned; they are 
now at Mr. Robinson’s house, but he says they cannot 
stay there always, and /le’s looking for quarters for 
them.” 

Mrs. Biondi leaned on her uncle for support and cried : 

“Think of my OAvn, noble child working to buy food 
for the destitute; boy, take us to him at once.” 

“But I can’t dO’ that,” replied Bob; “I never promised 
you anything of the kind.” 

“No, lad, you did not promise to take us to him or to 
tell us where he is,” said Mr. Arthur, soothingly, “but 
I am sure you will do so when T tell you that this lady 
is Adolfo’s m'Other and I am his uncle. 

Bob eyed Mr. Arthur closely before he answered: 

“Well! I’ll be blown — But you are not Mr. Stokes; 
my Air. Stokes, and he is the one who, Adolfo said, was 
his own, true uncle, the uncle that would not own him. 


GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 23 ? 

He says he has got enough . of the Stokes family and 
don’t want them to know where he is.” 

“When Adolfo speaks that way, he is talking at ran- 
dom,” said Mr. Arthur, impatiently, “what does he know 
of the Stokes, and their intentions?” 

“He came to my boss’ office one day, and Mr. Arthur 
Stokes told me he was an impostor. So Adolfo got 
awful mad and said he would never, never again lay 
eyes on his mother’s family if he could help it. That he 
was going to make his fortune and go back to Italy to 
his mother and to hils faA^her’s people.” 

Ha ha,” lau^ied Mr. Arthur, “that’s true Arthur 
spunk. Your boy is a chip from the old block. Mar- 
guerite, a chip from the old block. It will all turn out 
well.” 

“Please, sir,” interrupted Bob, “I must go now.” 

“Call at the Hotel Tremont, Bob, to-morrow morning 
at nine o’clock, if you are not busy. And here is a 
dollar for your trouble,” said Mr. Arthur, handing Bob 
a silver dollar. 

Bob did not take the money, however, and surprised 
them both by saying: “If I can be of any services to 
you, sir, and to the lady who claims to be Adolfo’s 
mother I shall be glad — but I cannot be paid to give 
Adolfo away.’^ 

“Then, my boy,” said Mrs. Biondi, in a gentle voice, 
“at least come to see us in the morning and report 
what Adolfo decides to do after you have told him 
that his mother is in Galveston. And take this purse 


m GALVESTON UNDER MARTIAL LAW 

to him, and tell him to use it all to help the poor, sur- 
viving victims of this disaster. 

“I will take the purse to him, if you say so, ma’am, 
but I will not come to the hotel unless Adolfo wants 
me to.” 

They had, no time to reply before the boy was gone. 
‘'A strange coincidence!” exclaimed Mr. Arthur. ‘'But 
things are coming our way, Marguerite.” 

“You are right, uncle dear! Do you not think it time 
to return to the hotel? There may be news for us there.” 
“Certainly,” he replied, and they retraced their steps. 



“ liold on a moment,” cried Adolfo, “and 1 11 save you ! ” 


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CHAPTER XX 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 

It was eight o’clock to the minute, when Bob, his face 
as bright as a dollar fresh from the mint, walked into 
the office of the Tremont. 

He looked at the big time piece above the registration- 
desk, and manifested unmistakable surprise. ‘‘Whew,” 
he exclaimed as he rammed his hands deep down into 
his pockets and walked back to the Tremont street en- 
trance, his head down and his features showing his brain 
to be full of puzzling questions. 

“Better be too early than too late!” he remarked to 
himself. “I only wish Adolfo had come with me! It’s 
too bad to disappoint them so, when they were so 
anxious to see him.” 

Bob seated himself in front of the hotel, and wholly 
unconscious of the crowd walking past him, began to 
whistle “My Country ’Tis of Thee.” 

“Here is patriotism for you,” said a man, who stood 
by the door. 

“It is strange how we find those sentiments 
wherever we go. Love for one’s native land is born in 
a fellow, I suppose,” said his companion. Then greet- 
ing a new-comer, he exclaimed: 

“Why, good morning, doctor, good morning.” 

( 241 ) 


242 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


“Good morning, gentlemen/’ answered our worthy 
friend, Dr. Flint. “This is a glorious day.” 

“Yes,” replied the first speaker, “a few more like this 
and our gloom will be lifted entirely. How is that for 
youthful patriotism,” pointing to Bob, whose whistling 
had continued unabashed. 

The doctor looked attentively at the boy, then sud- 
denly said : “I believe I know the chap — Good morning, 
Bob.” 

Bob jumped to his feet on hearing his name and was 
surprised to see three men looking at him. But, recog- 
nizing Dr. Flint he asked, point blank: 

“Have you seen or heard anything of Mr. Stokes 
since Saturday, sir?” 

“Why, boy, your question startles me,” was the sur- 
prised physician’s answer. “We thought you were hav- 
ing dreams of the heroic deeds you propose performing 
for your country. 

“And what were you really thinking of, Bob, if that 
is a fair question,” asked one of the men standing by. 

“Oh it is all right for you to ask. I was thinking how 
sorry I would be if Mr. Stokes was lost in the storm, 
now that his sister is here,” coolly replied Bob. 

“How do you know his sister is here?” asked the 
doctor. 

“I saw her and Mr. Arthur yesterday,” answered the 
boy, undisturbed by the sensation he was causing, “and 
-they told me who they were. I have an engagement 
with them at nine. What time it is, doctor?” 

The doctor smiled, as he looked at his watch and 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


243 


replied: ‘^Five minutes of nine. ^ That is right to be 
on lime, young man. By the way do you happen to 
know that brave lad, Adolfo Biondi?’' 

Yes I know him, but I will not tell where he is 
unless he wants me to,” replied Bob, at once in the 
defensive mood. ‘T must hurry up now to room thirty. 
But you didn’t tell me yet, doctor, if you had seen Mr. 
Stokes.” Bob stopped to ask as he was about entering 
the hotel. 

''You keep your engagement. Bob, and I’ll tell you 
about him later,” was the doctor’s provoking reply. 

Mrs. Biondi was in her uncle’s room and both were 
waiting impatiently and somewhat anxiously for the 
arrival of Bob. W^hat if the boy had decided to obey 
his friend’s instructions and keep away from his new 
acquaintances. 

Suddenly, after a rather sharp knock, the door was 
thrown open and Bob stood before them, somewhat 
ashamed of his awkward entrance. 

Mrs. Biondi hurried to the door: ‘Tt is Bob, uncle. 
Come in. Bob!” she cried in great delight. She threw 
her arms around the boy’s neck and fairly dragged him 
into the room. Then placing him in a chair she drew 
up another close by and said: 

“Now, Bob, tell me quick, what did Adolfo say when 
you announced to him that his mother was in Galves- 
ton?” 

Old Mr. Arthur was sitting on the other side of Bob, 
and leaned forward, eager to hear the answer. 

“Say?” exclaimed Bob, flushing with excitement, 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


Svhy, he diclnT say a word. He just cried and cried as 
long as he could stand up, then he lay down and cried 
some more. I offered to give him everything I had if he 
would stop crying, and when he wouldn’t I had to cry 
too. And neither of us slept hardly any, all night. 
Finally, this morning, he quieted down so-me and said 
I could come here if I wanted to, but he did not believe 
you was his mamma.” 

‘Toor, poor boy,” said Mrs. Biondi between her sobs. 
“Uncle, what shall we do now?” 

“Why, just go and get this stubborn boy and bring 
him back to the hotel,” replied Mr. Arthur blowing his 
nose vigorously. 

Bob, thinking that he had filled his mission got up 
to leave. 

“Where are you going?” asked Mr. Arthur. 

“Back to work,” replied Bob. 

“But first you must show us the way to Adolfo,” said 
Mrs. Bioudi. 

‘‘We shall go at once,” said Mr. Arthur, ringing for 
a bell-boy. When “buttons” came to the door, the old 
gentleman ordered, in his usual, quick tone: 

“Have a carriage at the door in half an hour.” 

“Is Adolfo injured?” asked Mrs. Biondi. 

“No,” replied Bob, squirming on his chair. “Only 
an arm broken, and two ribs stove in, and a cut in his 
head, and bruises all over his body.” 

“Horrors!” exclaimed Mrs. Biondi, throwing up her 
hands in amazement. “Only an arm broken, two ribs 
smashed, a cut on his head and numberless bruises! 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


245 


We must get a physician to go with us right away. 
Where can we find Dr. Roberts?’' inquired the half 
hysterical woman. 

“He don’t need a doctor,” stated Bob, in his blunt, 
matter-of-fact way; ‘‘his arm is fixed. He hasn’t any 
clothes though.” 

Just then Dr. Roberts interrupted further remarks 
from Bob, by appearing at the door, smiling. 

“The very man we wanted to see!” exclaimed Mr. 
Arthur. 

“We have found Adolfo!” cried Mrs. Biondi, “and you 
must go with us to see him. I know he is almost dead.” 

“I am glad you have heard the news, madam,” said 
the doctor, “I just came to tell you about your son, and 
to ask permission to bring up a lady friend to call upon 
you.” 

“A lady friend, doctor? Why, I had no idea there was 
any lady I knew, in Galveston!” was Mrs. Biondi’s sur- 
prised rejoinder. 

“Just the ^ame, this lady is an old friend of yours.” 

“Her name, doctor?” impatiently interrupted Mrs. 
Bioudi. 

“Miss Mary Phelps — I was going to add,” courteously 
replied the doctor. 

“Mary Phelps? The girl Arthur loved? Why, there 
must be some mistake, doctor. Arthur, poor boy, wrote 
me eight years ago, in the last letter I received from 
him, that everything between Mary and him was over.” 

“That may be, my dear madam, still at this moment 


246 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


a young lady who calls herself Mary Phelps is waiting 
in the parlor to see you/' insisted the doctor. 

‘‘Oh, Marguerite, Marguerite,” some one called, to 
their intense surprise. At the same moment, Mary 
Phelps rushed into the room : 

“I could not wait a moment longer so I had the boy 
show me up. It is too good to be true/’ she continued, 
as the two ladies embraced and kissed each other. 
“Think of it, you, here in Galveston in search of your 
son. And I rescued from a terrible death in the awful 
storm Saturday night, by that very son — a hero of heroes. 
T owe my life and that of my little niece to the 
splendid efforts of your boy, Adolfo Biondi.” 

Mrs. Biondi dropped into a chair close by, too greatly 
moved to speak. 

“My life also was saved by the timely arrival of the 
boy,” said Mr. Arthur, who could hardly master his 
emotion. “I am George Arthur, Miss Phelps; you 
possibly do not remember me, though I was acquainted 
with you and your people, years ago, when you and 
Arthur were — ” 

“I remember you quite well, sir — and I am very happy 
to see you. Now, Marguerite, tell me about yourself. 
It is an extraordinary coincidence that brought us to- 
gether. If only poor ” 

Mary Phelps did not finish her sentence before Mrs. 
Biondi, interrupting her, said: 

“You mean/ if dear Arthur were here — I understand. 
I^Iary, you still love him — Some time you will tell me 
what the terrible mistake was that separated you?” 


AN' EVENTFUL £)AV 


m 

Mary shook her head between her sobs. 

''You will always be my sister, anyway, Mary/’ con- 
tinued Adolfo’s mother, tenderly; “I have loved you 
all my life and I will do my best to make you forget 
your sorrow. Arthur never loved anyone else, let this 
be your great consolation. Together we shall mourn 
for him.” And Marguerite Biondi folded Mary in her 
arms and the two mingled their tears in sisterly devotion, 

Bob had seized the opportunity of Mary’s arrival to 
slip out of the room unobserved, and he forthwith hur- 
ried out of the hotel. 

Seeing a carriage in waiting he asked: "Is this Mr. 
Arthur’s order?” The driver nodded. "All right then; 
drive me, as quickly as possible,' to St. Mary’s Infirmary; 
I want to get a chap there and bring him back here with- 
out a moment’s delay. I’ll give you a 'wheel’ extra if 
you will hurry.” 

The boy had hardly jumped into the trap, when the 
driver gave the horses a taste of the whip and they fairly 
flew. Bob hoped to make the trip to the Infirmary, 
and to return to the hotel before he was missed or Mr. 
Arthur and his niece would get ready to start in quest 
of Adolfo. He was a warm hearted little chap and he 
thought it now the right time for Adolfo to appear on 
the scene. 

In the meantime, while the two women were exchang- 
ing their sorrowful reminiscences. Dr. Roberts had called 
Mr. Arthur aside and whispered to him that his nephew 
had been discovered, but in a very badly injured con- 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


m 

dition; the main danger was over, though, and he was 
slowly recovering. 

Mr. Arthur was, of course, about to burst with de- 
light had not the doctor advised him to quiet down for 
a while and not break the news too suddenly to the two 
women already wrought up to the highest point. Finally, 
the old gentleman, by a mighty effort, recovered his 
self-possession and said: 

'‘You are wise, doctor, we shall wait until to-morrow 
before saying a word about it. Poor Miss Phelps though, 
she is a pitiful sight with her arm in a sling, her pale, 
troubled face and her nervous, agitated condition. I 
wish we could safely — But, no, weTl follow your advice 
and keep mumm for a while.’’ 

Just then, "Uncle,” said Mrs. Biondi, "we shall take 
Mary with us to see my dear boy.” 

"O yes, take me along,” exclaimed Mary Phelps, "I 
am so> anxious to see him, and thank him again and 
again for saving my life and that of darling Isabelle.” 

"And you, doctor, must accompany us also, if it’s per- 
fectly convenient,” added Mr. Arthur. 

"That I will do most gladly, but before we go, I wish 
to deliver a message to Miss Phelps, this being the first 
time, since receiving it on the awful night of the storm, 
that I consider her strong enough to be told important 
news.” 

"If it is anything horrible, doctor, please do not men- 
tion it yet,” cried Mary Phelps, pleadingly. "I do 
not believe it is |x>ssible for me to stand any more 
sorrow and live!” 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


249 


‘‘If I am not mistaken you will consider the message 
good news, my dear young lady/’ replied the doctor. 

“Out with it then, doctor; if it is something cheerful, 
we need it badly,” Mr. Arthur said with a brightening 
face. 

Dr. Roberts knit his brow and began: 

“On the night of the storm, I happened to be close 
by Ritter’s place when it collapsed and when the un- 
fortunate inmates were dug out I attended to them 
promptly. Among them was a handsome young fellow, 
who was badly but not fatally injured. However, he was 
positive he was on the point of death and under this 
impression which I did everything to dissipate, he made 
me an important confession, and asked me to repeat 
its substance to you. Miss Mary Phelps.” ^ 

“His name, doctor, tell me quick,” said Miss Phelps. 

“Robert Manning,” was the reply. 

“What! my cousin, Robert Manning!” exclaimed the 
young lady. “The poor fellow once imagined that he 
was in love with me!” 

“This love, he told me, had been the very cause of 
his mad, wicked action — ” 

Mary Phelps excitedly interrupted the doctor. 

“You don’t mean that he could have ? No, this 

would have been too terribly awful — But tell, me, doctor, 
did he confess that he wrote those wicked letters that 
made Arthur, my own, dear Arthur, believe me untrue 
to him — ^ — ? 

“My dear young lady,” cried Dr. Roberts, “you must 


250 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


be a remarkable mind-reader; in these few words you 
have given the gist of Mr. Manning’s confession to me !” 

“It is all true then? And is he here? Has his life 
been saved?” 

“It is all true, my dear young lady. He is here and 
he did not die,” answered Dr. Roberts. 

“It is as you thought,” remarked Mrs. Biondi, with a 
sight of relief. It was some terrible, wilful, wicked 
intrigue that separated you two young lovers. Arthur, 
poor boy, never ceased to love you. But excuse me for 
interrupting you, doctor; we are impatient to hear it all.” 

“Well, the man being, at the time, ma'dly in love with 
you. Miss Phelps, and driven to despair because you 
rejected him, dehberately planned to ruin your life by 
depriving you of your aunt’s inheritance and separating 
you from the man you were engaged to. So he invented 
the lies you know of and_ Mr. Stokes believed in, and 
instigated their circulation with the dire results you and 
your fiance suffered from so grievously.” 

“Who could have thought Robert Manning guilty of 
such a deed?” exclaimed Mary Phelps. “We all used 
to believe him to be the soul of honor.” 

“He begged me to say to you,” continued the doctor, 
“that not a cent of your aunt’s fortune has he ever spent, 
and it was not the money he wanted, it was revenge. 
He also wanted me to impress upon you that he had 
suffered agonies for his misdeeds — in fact had not known 
one really happy hour since he committed them, and he 
prayed, in touching tones that you might be induced to 
forgive him.” 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


251 


“Oh, I could forgive him if it were not that Arthur 
is gone — lost forever in this world — ” sobbed Mary 
Phelps. 

“Dear friend,’^ Mrs. Biondi said, after her uncle had 
whispered something in her ear, “dear Mary, it may be 
that Arthur is not dead. He may be found yet — ill, 
wounded perhaps, but alive. You know Adolfo is safe, 
although I have not seen him. Let us keep hope in 
our hearts for a few days longer.” 

“Oh! how could Robert be so cruel?” Mary cried in 
hec-Mtstress. 

“He was cruel, but he has repented, and begs for 
forgiveness,” said Mr. Arthur. 

“If I forgive him, perhaps he will think that I may 
some day be his, and the very sight of him would be 
odious to me,” exclaimed Mary, overwrought by ex- 
citement. 

“Should he recover, Robert Manning will never 
trouble you again,” replied Dr. Roberts. “He met, three 
years ago, an accomplished young woman to whom he 
became very deeply attached, and while he knew she 
was the one woman he loved best of all, he would not 
marry her because of the awful sin he had committed 
toward you and Mr. Stokes.” 

“Then he also has suffered — I forgive him, docto^- 
T forgive him, but my heart is almost broken,” said Mary 
Phelps, her head bowed down with grief. 

“Some one is coming, auntie!” cried Isabelle, running 
into the room, leading little Tom by the hand. “See!” 
she cried again in great excitement, “see, here he is.” 


252 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


The little darling fairly danced with delight as Adolfo 
walked into the room. 

He offered a heart-rending picture to the six well- 
dressed people in the room. With the exception of a 
shirt much too small for him, which only partially cov- 
ered his chest and arms he had nothing more on than 
his rags of the Sunday after the storm. It is true, his 
worst wounds had been bandaged, but on his hands and 
face were visible a number of small, ugly gashes. 

It was no wonder that his mother in her nervous, ex- 
cited condition nearly fainted when she saw such a 
dilapidated looking creature standing before her. She 
had carried in her heart the image of her beautiful, nine 
year old boy — the age of the lad when he ran off to 
America to hunt his mother’s people and to seek his for- 
tune. Isabelle was evidently wounded at the strange 
reception her idol was receiving, and taking hold of 
his only valid hand, she cried: “Come on, Adolfo, you 
and me and Tom will go. They are mad because we 
children came in without being asked to.” 

Adcwlfo was as much hurt as his little friend at the 
curious, amazed expression caused by his entrance. Be- 
fore giving his mother and the others a minute’s time 
to recover, he said to the child, in heart-broken tones: 

“I might have known it, Isabelle. When a fellow 
hasn’t on fine clothes no one wants him.” 

But his mother had sprung to her feet before Isabelle 
had led the lad out of the room and crying from joy 
as she clasped him to her bosom, she exclaimed: 

“Darling Adolfo, what is it you are saying? Don’t 


AN EVENTFUL DAY 


m 


you know I am your own, dear mamma? Don’t you 
remember mamma Marguerite? Why, you are not go- 
ing to leave me again?” 

Suddenly Adolfo remembered the pet name by which 
he used to call his mother, and letting his poor, dis- 
figured head fall upon her shoulder, the youthful hero 
burst out sobbing like a baby. 


CHAPTER XXI 


UNITED 

That night, Mary Phelps remained with her friends 
at the Tremont hotel, and, until the “wee small” hours, 
she and Marguerite talked over old times; and looking 
hopefully at what the future had in store for them and 
those they loved. For Mary Phelps had, at last, been 
told of the miraeulons rescue of her former lover and 
of his incomplete recovery. 

That same evening it had been decided by the two 
physicians that the detective should cautiously acquaint 
Arthur Stokes with the fact that Miss Phelps was alive 
and well, and also that his uncle and sister were in 
Galveston, united by a series of strange coincidences, 
and waiting to see him. 

Before sleep came to the eyes of any member of the 
party, all arrangements had been perfected to leave the 
city as soon as Arthur Stokes was able to be moved; 
provided, of course, that the connection with the main 
land should have been restored and the Santa Fe trains be 
in running order. 

Under the careful nursing of the devoted Miss Coi:a 
Kimbro, Mr. Stokes’ return to health had made rapid 
progress in the last two days. 

This noble young woman had sent, the first day she 
arrived in the grief-stricken city, a dozen sick and 
( 254 ) 


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255 


wounded women and children to Houston to be placed 
there under the care of some of her sanitarium attendants. 

When appealed to by Adolfo to nurse a poor man 
he had rescued, she came to the relief of Arthur Stokes, 
thinking he was an unfortunate laboring man, without 
a dollar or a friend in the world, for those were the 
people she was looking for. 

The storm sufferers she had decided to take back with 
her to her sanitarium in Houston, were taken care of 
by her able attendants and conveyed there free of charge, 
as were thousands of others carried by rail to Houston 
and to the homes of friends in almost every other state 
in the union, through the generous courtesy of Colonel 
L. J. Polk, general manager of the Santa Fe Railroad. 

A week had passed since the city was ridden over 
by the monster storm and the accompanying tidal wave; 
and still hundreds of bodies, in a more or less advanced 
stage of decomposition, were taken out of the debris 
every day and burned to ashes as described in a pre- 
ceding chapter. 

But, on every side, there were now greater evidences 
of the heroic efforts made by the Galvestonians to rid 
their city of the awful wreckage and to resume business 
at the old stand, with undiminished energy and pluck. 
Think of these hundreds of well-to-do men, who had 
passed through that awful night and lost their all, some- 
times even their cherished families, and yet, undaunted 
and tireless, going to work, with their own hands, search- 
ing the ruins, clearing the streets and burying the dead! 

When Mary Phelps and Marguerite Biondi awoke the 




256 UNITED 

next morning after the events related in our preceding 
chapter, and when they saw the bright sun and the 
cloudless sky, the younger woman said: 

‘Tt is very difficult fo? me, Marguerite, to imagine that, 
less than a week ago, I was passing through those terri- 
ble experiences.” 

“Do not think of them any longer, dear; at least you 
have fully recovered your health ; the mists are all cleared 
away now and there seems to be much happiness in 
store for us all. Think of Arthur’s delight when he is 
told, to-day, that three persons who love him and whom 
he loves dearly — you best of all, my dear Mary — are 
here waiting to receive him with open arms!” 

“It is too good to be true,” replied Mary, with sup- 
pressed emotion. “But what if Arthur’s feelings toward 
me are changed? What if he does not love me any 
longer?” 

“On that point, my dear girl, you may rest perfectly 
secure — I know Arthur — Remember he is a Stokes — 
and when a Stokes loves it is for life — ” 

After the two ladies were through with their morning 
meal, which was served in Marguerite’s room, Mr. 
George Arthur called to tell them that carriages were 
in waiting to drive the whole party to the Robinson’s 
home to visit Stokes. 

“And how is the dear boy, uncle, this morning?” 
asked Mrs. Biondi. 

The old gentleman answered cheerily: 

“Oh, I understand he is growing better every day; 


UNITED 


still he IS quite weak yet and his strength has to be 
husbanded very carefully — ” 

‘Tt may be, sir,” remarked Mary, with unmistakable 
sadness, “that I shall not be a welcome visitor in his 
sick room.” 

‘T feel sure,” affirmed Mr. Arthur, “that he will be 
perfectly delighted to meet us all. Thank God, he also 
has been preserved — and there is once more to be 
harmony in our family.” 

“Would it not be a good idea,” suggested Mary, “to 
call first at the Infirmary and visit my cousin, Robert 
Manning? If he is able to be up and allowed to drive 
out ril ask him to go with us to see Arthur.” 

“That’s an excellent plan,” declared Mr. Arthur. “We 
shall go now, at once; the carriages have been waiting 
some time.” 

Mrs. Robinson was to accompany the party to her 
own home, and each rejoiced at the prospect of the happy 
meeting in store for the six people who had been so 
strangely thrown together, in Galveston, after years of 
separation. 

They decided tO' let Mary Phelps enter alone the 
Infirmary, the rest of the party remaining in the car- 
riages. 

She was told by a Sister in attendance that Mr. 
Manning was up and quite well enough to go out for a 
drive if he so desired. 

“The change will do him good, he needs recreation, 
for I am quite sure he is laboring under some great 
mental trouble,” the good Sister confidentially remarked 


258 


UNITED 


to Mary as they were walking up the stairs to Mr. 
Manning’s room. 

Cousin Robert was standing with lowered brow and 
darkened mean, drumming on the window pane, when 
the Sister tapped lightly on the door. 

''Good morning, Sister,” he said in a cheery voice, 
then seeing Mary he drew back and the Sister said: 
"Your cousin, Mr. Manning,” and at once left the room. 
With hand extended, Mary advanced to meet her kins- 
man. 

"Am I dreaming?” cried Robert Manning, shutting 
out the sight of this apparition by putting his hands 
over his eyes. "Great God, how I am punished! Surely 
it cannot be Mary!” 

"It is Mary, Robert, your own cousin — Mary Phelps — 
I know all, Robert, I pardon all, I will forget all; and 
now let us be friends again.” 

"You have been told by Dr. Roberts then? He has 
communicated to you my awful confession?”^ 

"Yes, Robert,” replied Mary as she took his hand in 
hers, "and if you now want to do me a real favor, you 
are not to mention the subject for a long, long while. 
You are weak and nervous from the effect of that awful 
storm, and as soon as we are able to travel we shall all 
go home. See, Robert, I also was seriously injured in 
the disaster, the arm I still wear in a sling was broken.” 

"Poor girl,” cried her cousin, now seeming to recover 
his presence of mind. "It was indeed an awful night! 
See these many fires, out to the north, Mary? They 
are all funeral piles. Our bodies would have been among 


UNITED 


259 


them had we been lost. For some, it would have been 
as well. Can anyone ever be happy again after seeing 
the appalling sorrow of Galveston?” 

‘‘Da not think of it, Robert,” was the cheering reply, 
“it all belongs to the past which must be buried or 
burned to ashes like these poor victims yonder. We 
must live for the present. I am truly happy your life 
has been spared — and that Arthur Stokes is also alTv^ 
and wants to see us.” 

“Arthur Stokes! — us! Mary; what does it all mean?” 
asked Robert excitedly. 

“It m.eans, dear Robert, that you and I, and Arthur’s 
sister Marguerite, and their uncle Mr. George Arthur 
are going over to visit Arthur in a house where they 
have taken care of him since that terrible night.” 

“But I cannot go, I cannot meet Arthur.” 

“He knows all, Robert, and he also has forgiven you.” 

Without another word, the young man picked up 
his hat and quietly followed Mary down the stairs and 
out to the carrjage. Every one greeted him cordially 
and room was made for him inside. 

“Strangers, now. in Galveston for the first time,” re- 
marked Mrs. Robinson, sighing deeply, “can not imag- 
ine what a beautiful city by the sea we were so proud of 
just a week ago. It is now difficult for me to find my 
bearings in this quarter of the town, so completely have 
the old landmarks been wiped out.” 

“The most pathetic feature of it,” said Mr. Arthur, 
“is the sight of those funeral piles continually burning 
and smoking. And yet these fires are the greatest, 


260 


UNITED 


almost the only, safeguard the city could have taken 
against a pestilence/’ 

The odor of the smoke from the burning bodies and 
the various debris piled over them grew more and more 
offensive and Mr. Arthur ordered the driver to hurry 
to the Robinson home. 

Bert, the gardener, having been informed of the pro- 
posed visit had placed chairs in the parlor for the mem- 
bers of the party; the rest of the furniture having been 
taken out of doors to dry and be repaired, for everything 
on the ground floor had been thoroughly water-soaked 
and otherwise damaged by the storm. 

Drs. Roberts and Flint and the detective were stand- 
ing in the yard — watching the workmen repairing the 
house. As soon as the carriages stopped in front of the 
gate they advanced to greet the visitors. Except Robert 
Manning every one wore a smiling face. To him Dr. 
Roberts offered his hand, cordially saying, “This is an 
unexpected pleasure, Mr. Manning.” Then taking him 
aside he told him that Arthur Stokes especially requested 
him to call at the first opportunity. 

Mrs. Biondi and Mr. Arthur were the first members 
of the party shown up to Mr. , Stokes’ room by Dr. 
Roberts. All were surprised to see him seated in an 
invalid’s chair and looking serenely happy, although 
showing the marks of a severe illness hardly conquered 
as yet. 

The nurse opened the door and after showing them in 
left the room. 

“Dear, dear Arthur, I am your sister Marguerite,” 


UNITED 


261 


cried Mrs. Biondi, '‘my beloved brother, how delighted 
I am to see your face once more. Fifteen years, is it 
not, Arthur, since I saw you?” 

“The time has dragged very heavily these last eight 
years, dear Marguerite,” was the affectionate answer, 
“but now I think it will go faster. Did she come? Mary, 
I mean?” 

“Mary is here, Arthur,” exclaimed the old gentleman, 
coming forward with a beaming face, “and so am I, your 
Uncle George, and right glad I am to take your hand 
in mine-once again. Up to last night. Marguerite and 
I were grieving for you as lost, but the gOod Lord has 
preserved you for happier days.” 

“Thank God that I am alive, since Mary did not 
perish. Oh, uncle, it was an awful night! To see her 
wrenched from my arms, and go down, down into the 
seething, roaring darkness, the lashing of waves, and 
the crashing of timbers! I never expected to see her 
again! And then. Marguerite, to think that your poor, 
brave boy, Adolfo, risked his own life to save ours — 
when I had called him an impostor and tried to effect 
his arrest !” 

The sick man leaned back exhausted, and the first 
tears he had been able to shed since the appalling night 
now flowed freely from his eyes. 

“Yon were bound to believe him an impostor,” replied 
Mrs. Biondi soothingly, “you must not blame yourself. 
You did not even know that I had a son, and you were 
justified in suspecting fraud,” 

“But how did Adolfo chance to be in Galveston? 


262 


UNITED 


Lucinda told me he has been here eight years. I sup- 
pose you have forgotten everything about our old colored 
mammy, Lucinda, who used to hold you in her lap when 
you were a wee baby. Well, she had settled in Galveston 
since the war and had grown to be accepted as a reliable 
prophetess. The day before the disaster, she called upon 
me on behalf of Adolfo and prophesied this awful storm 
and the death of herself and my friend George Boyes- 
sen — ” ^ 

“We know all about this strange occurrence,’’ replied 
Marguerite, “Drs. Roberts and Flint and Sleuth No. 1 
— as your detective calls himself — have told us the main 
facts in this strange drama. They have been untiring 
in their efforts in our behalf. By the way, uncle, I had 
better tell Arthur how my young son happened to come 
to America, so far away from me, when so young. Here 
is the whole story in a few words. My poor husband 
died on Adolfo’s third birthday and I made the little 
fellow my companion and tried to make him understand 
the sorrow of my life. I told him how I loved my people, 
but that, for some cause I did not explain to him, they 
cared nothing for me. I impressed upon him the idea 
that, some day, I hoped, through him, to be able to 
redeem their love. Once, I showed him a package of 
papers containing my will, my marriage certificate and 
letters from you and other friends in America, and I 
tried to make my young son understand that, if I should 
die, he must guard those papers preciously, and after 
he had reached manhood, he must go to America aud 
pray my people for forgiveness toward their exiled 


UNITED 


m 


daughter. These oft-repeated instructions saddened the 
boy’s life and the idea of going to America to intercede 
on my behalf, never left his mind a moment. HovC^ever, 
I was far from conceiving the power of my words, 
and you may imagine my surprise and sorrow to learn 
one night, on coming home from the school where I 
was an instructor in English, that my boy had vanished. 
Soon I discovered my papers gone also; and only then 
did I realize that my litde son had taken these documents, 
and started for America to hunt my people on his peace- 
making mission. For seven long years, I searched for 
Adolfo, but no word did I hear from him; so I had to 
give up in despair and settle down to nurse my sorrow. 
But a few months ago, a great change took place. I 
came into possession of a large fortune my poor husband 
should have come into, years before his death. With 
plentiful means to assist me, I engaged detectives in 
every seaport on the American continent to assist me 
in the search, and it was your very agent, Sleuth No. 1, 
who located Adolfo here, three months ago, and has 
since been carefully watching the lad, while waiting for 
me to come over. It is all happily settled now ; my boy 
is safe — a true hero in the eyes of many and the heir 
to his father’s fortune ; in fact, dear Adolfo was the provi- 
dential instrument that caused us all to be united this 
morning.” 

As she concluded this recital of her years of exile and 
anguish, Marguerite Stokes wiped tears of joy from her 
eyes, and her brother taking her hand in his said ten- 
derly: “Yes, united, all but Mary and me. It is an 


m 


UNITED 


awful things to think of her g^reat loss and of her being 
alone in this great world with her sorrow; Who knows 
but that she may be already in dire want. Oh it is 
terrible, terrible!” 

Mr. George Arthur replied at once: ‘‘My dear boy, I 
do not think there is any reason why you and Mary 
should not be united this very day — she is but a few 
steps away from this room, and if she is willing, you 
may assume at once the right to protect her and the 
pretty child Isabelle.” 

*'1 will call Mary in,” exclaimed Mrs. Biondi, per- 
fectly delighted at the thought that Mary would consent 
to becoming Arthur’s wife without an hour’s delay. 

She hurried out, and in a moment returned with Mary, 
her arms around her: “Uncle,” she called out, as she 
left the room without saying a word to her brother, “we 
want you here.” 

All she heard as Mr. Arthur closed the door, was: 
“Mary! — Arthur!” and the lovers were left alone. 

Mrs. Biondi was happy as a school girl at the prospect 
of attending a wedding, and at once began planning with 
the nurse and Mrs. Robinson to see if a way could be 
arranged by which the re-united fiances could be mar- 
ried immediately. 

Three bright women with their hearts set upon one 
object can accomplish almost anything, no matter how 
difficult it may seem to others. 

The gentlemen entered into their plans with equal 
gusto, and by twelve o’clock, everything that could be 


UNITED 


265 


settled without the actual consent of Mary Phelps and 
Arthur Stokes had been completed. 

‘‘I must g:o up there to see about those lovers, I am 
afraid they have gone crazy with delight,” cried Mrs. 
Biondi, '‘come, Mr. Manning, you accompany me.” 

Very reluctantly the penitent one followed her. Mrs. 
Biondi knocked loudly on the door of her brother’s room 
and at the same time called: “It is Marguerite and Mr. 
Manning.” 

Then she opened the door and rushing into the room 
cried out, not even waiting for her brother to greet his 
fiancee’s cousin: 

“It is all arranged to take place at three o’clock to-day, 
and then you will be driven at once to the hotel.” 

“What is arranged. Marguerite?” the lovers asked in 
one breath. 

“Your marriage, my dears — now don’t say a word. 
I am bossing the whole *job. You have been separated 
long enough,” was the merry answer. 

“Please do not refer to this long separation, my dear 
Mrs. Biondi, it breaks my Jieart to think of my cruel 
conduct,” exclaimed Robert Manning. 

“Manning, all this is past and gone,” was Arthur’s 
generous reply, “Mary and I have talked it over and 
decided to pass the sponge for good and all, over the 
•whole incident. Here take my hand, you are forgiven, 
and we hope you will now lose no time hunting the girl 
you love and making her and you happy.” 

“That he will,” said Mrs, Bigndi, “I am going to take 


2G6 


UNITED 


all these crazy people in charge and make them feel 
good and blissful.” 

“What do you say, Mary, to leaving ourselves in the 
hands of such a dangerously excited woman,” asked 
Arthur Stokes, his face beaming with smiles. 

“I am ready to obey my sister,” was Mary’s demure 
reply. 


CONCLUSION 


Promptly at three o’clock all parties were assembled 
in Mr. and Mrs. Robinson’s home awaiting the arrival 
of Mr. Robinson with the license and a minister. Isa- 
belle could hardly understand the proceedings and little 
Tom looked on with amazement; yet they were all happy 
— grown-ups and children — and perhaps no one any 
more than Miss Cora Kimbro, for these wealthy people 
had proven their generosity and , appreciation of her 
noble deeds by presenting her with a large endowment 
for her Sanitarium. This fund would enable her to 
realize the dream of her life, to gather under her roof 
those rejected by every one else, as being too low for 
their hands to touch; to take and keep them in her 
own refuge, ‘'without money and without price;” aitd 
when their bodies would again be well and strong, to 
find them suitable and honorable employment. 

“We are here at last,” cried Mr. Robinson, as he 
ushered a Methodist minister into the room and intro- 
duced him to everybody. 

“This is a merry wedding party notwithstanding the 
fact that the participants are not in gay attire, but they 
are alive, and that’s a good deal to be thankful for, these 
days,” added the host with a hearty laugh. 

“We feel as the whole town looks,” replied Arthur 
Stokes, ^Very much storm-tossed, do we not, Mary?” 

( 267 ) 


268 


CONCLUSION 


‘‘All is well that ends well/’ said the detective. And 
the minister, in a grave voice, began: 

“And now, my dear young people, let me consummate 
your happiness by uniting you in the holy bonds of 
matrimony.” 

Everyone was silent, while joining their two hands 
he pronounced in a solemn tone the words, which, with 
their assent, made Mary Phelps and Arthur Stokes man 
and wife. 

When the knot had been tied good and strong. Dr. 
Flint exclaimed: “After all, the ill wind and wave that 
wrought disaster upon' our Island city — and for a while 
brought anguish and suffering to your lot, has ended 
happily for you two, bride fair and manly bridegroom,” 
and shaking hands with Arthur, he kissed Mary on both 
cheeks. After all the bystanders had gone through this 
charming part of the ceremony, Mr. Robinson an- 
nounced : 

“Now we are going to the Tremont in a hurry, or 
the feast I have had prepared will be cold,” and, in 
great glee and exchanging the heartiest wishes, the entire 
party were driven to the hotel. 

And thuS' ends the record of the brave deeds of Adolfo 
Biondi, personating the heroism of many during the 
terrible catastrophe that almost levelled Galveston to the 
ground. It is needless to add that Aunt Mary and Uncle 
Arthur adopted Isabelle as their own little precious 
daughter, to become, some day, the blushing bride of her 
babyhood’s sweetheart, the recovered son and treasure 
of Marguerite Stokes Biondi. 

[the end.] 


APPENDIX. 


AUTHENTIC FACTS, FIGURES AND DETAILS ABOUT THE 
GREAT DISASTER. 

A Brief Sketch of Galveston, 

The city of Galveston is situated at the east end of 
the Island of Galveston, and is located on land purchased 
from the Republic of Texas in 1838 by Col. Menard. 
Galveston Island is separated from the main land of 
Texas by a strip of water two miles wide, spanned by 
several bridges. 

The Island is thirty miles long with an average width 
of one mile. It lies east and west, and is low, very flat 
and sandy, with a covering of soil suflicient to grow 
turf plants, trees and vegetables. 

The average height of the island above main tide is 
about eight feet. In some sections, however, the height 
reaches fifteen to eighteen feet above main tide. 

At the beginning of the 19th century the. pirates who 
infested the Gulf of Mexico were the first to learn of 
the desirability of Galveston harbor. Through them, 
the Mexican minister, Herrera, heard of it, and deter- 
mined to take possession. Bringing with him a fleet 
of twelve vessels, he accomplished his purpose on the 
1st day of September, 1816. 

Herrera set up a government and proclaimed himself 
Governor of Texas and Galveston Island. After spend- _ 


270 


Appendix 


ing some time there, he and his men sailed away to fight 
Spain ; and the famous buccaneer, Lafitte took possession 
of the harbor. He built a town, on the Gulf shore, and 
called it Gampeachy. It is said that during his palmy 
days as a pirate, there were 1,000 men in his following, 
and the town prospered on the plunder brought in by 
his fleet of freebooting vessels. United States men-of- 
war finally captured the town and put an end to piracy 
in the Gulf of Mexico, while the former headquarters 
of the searovers began to develop the legitimate enter- 
prises of a seaport. 

The Government erected jetties at a coat of over 
$6,000,000, to insure the maintenance of the channel. 
These, however, afford no sufficient protection to Gal- 
veston, when attacked by a cyclone from the Caribbean 
Sea. 

Situated thus, without any natural or artificial defense, 
Galveston has frequently been placed in imminent 
danger from wind and wave. 

The cyclone which destroyed a large portion of the 
city and suburbs, on Saturday, September 8, 1900, did 
not swoop down upon Galveston unawares. 

The first sign of the disturbance that swept over 
Texas was noticed by H. C. Frankenfeld, observer and 
forecaster of the weather bureau, August 30, about 
the 15th degree of latitude north, and the 63d degree 
of longitude west. On September 4th it had reached 
the 2nd degree of latitude, the 8th degree of longitude. 

Late on September 4, warnings Tvere sent out by 
the weather bureau. On September 6th, barometric con- 


APPENDIX 


271 


ditions were so greatly changed that the movement of 
the storm along the Atlantic coast was opposed, and 
continuing along the line of least resistance, it spread 
northwest over the Gulf of Mexico. 

On September 7th it was about the 28th degree of 
longitude, and the 89th degree of latitude, and storm 
signals were ordered up on the entire Texas coast. 

At 2 o'clock on the morning of September 8th, the 
storm was nearing the coast of Texas at a terrific rate 
of speed. 

The last telegraphic communications relating to the 
storm were received from Galveston, dated 3.40 P. M., 
September 8th, and announced a barometric pressure of 
29.22 inches, with the wind blowing at the rate of 42 
miles an hour, indicating that the center of the storm 
was close to the city. 

In spite of the fact that these warnings were sent 
out by the weather bureau to the city authorities, who 
in turn telegraphed warnings to every ward, from the 
beach to several blocks north, very few people seemed 
to entertain any fears and many house dwellers, living 
close to the beach refused to leave home, which accounts 
for the great loss of life. 

Broadway, once a street of fashionable residences, 
marks the center of the city, east and west. The land, 
on one side, slopes toward the Gulf and on the other 
toward the Bay. 

Of the loss of life caused by the storm of September 
8, 1900, 90 per cent occurred in the district stretched 
between the Gulf and Broadway. The remaining 10 


272 


APPENDIX 


per cent of loss of life took place between the Bay on 
the north and Post Office street on the south. 

Census of Galveston June 1, 1900. 

The last federal census of Galveston was completed 
June 1,. 1900, and shows a population of 37,789. On 
the Island, outside of the city, the same census reveals 
the existence of 1,600 souls. 

The loss of life in the city by the cyclone reached, 
as far as statistics can ^o, the formidable total of 10,000 
human beings. 

The loss of life on the Island outside of the city, was 
1,200, making up a total of over 25 per cent of the entire 
population— city and suburbs. In Galveston, there were, 
in the last weeks of the 19th century, 10,000 homeless 
people. 5,000 people left the city since the storm, some 
to remain away permanently. 

Total lioss of Property. 

The total loss of property is thought to exceed 
$155,000,000. 

Mr. John Sealy is the heaviest individual loser. His 
losses are said to be over half a million dollars. 

Loss of City Territory. 

In one direction, Galveston has suffered a loss that 
is beyond repair, and that is in the extent of territory 
wrested from her by the storm. 

The waters of the Gulf cover 5,300,000 square feet 
of ground that was formerly a part of Galveston. This 
has taken place exclusively on the south of the city, 
where stood the finest residences facing the Gulf, where 


APPENDIX 


273 


land was held at a higher valuation than in any other 
part of the city with the sole exception of the business 
districts. 

How the News of the Disaster Reached the Outside 
World. 

Mayor Walter C. Jones at the head of a committee 
of citizens authorized the editor of the ‘‘Galveston 
Tribune” to ^o to Houston and tell the sad tale. The 
trip to Texas City was not only perilous, but it was 
full of shocking and heart-rending sights. After a long 
tramp to Lamarque over a flooded prairie, strewn with 
dead human bodies, carcasses of animals and debris of 
every conceivable description, much of it from the ill- 
fated city, this heroic messenger made his way, under 
a broiling Texan sun. From this point he proceeded 
to League City on a hand-car; there he was met by 
a special train from Houston which had been sent to 
obtain all possible information about Galveston. 

On the 10th of September, he arrived in Houston, 
and on the next morning, the tragic fate of the afflicted 
city was known the world over. 

Caring for the Dead. 

After 9 A. M. Sunday, September 9, no attempt was 
made to bring the dead to the city undertakers or to 
identify the 600 bodies brought in up to that hour. 

Orders were issued for corpses to be buried wherever 
found and those collected were taken out to sea and 
dropped with a heavy weight attached, into the water. 

On Monday, 1,200 bodies were tied together and dis- 


APPENDIX 


posed of ill a similar manner. On Tuesday, many of 
these maimed and disfigured remains were washed 
ashore. Then it became evident that the burning of 
human bodies as well as carcasses of animals was the 
only safe way of disposing of these poor victims of the 
monster, and of preventing an epidemic. 

Military companies were organized and by Tuesday, 
2,500 policemen and soldiers patrolled the city. 

On Thursday the city was placed under Martial Law 
and under command of Thomas Scurry, Adjutant Gen- 
eral. 

Supplies. 

On the 11th, the U. S. Government ordered 10,000 
tents and 50,000 rations sent on, with utmost speed, and 
announced that this welcome help would be doubled 
within a few days. 

All supplies were turned over to W. A. McVitie, 
Chairman of the Relief Committee. 

Train loads of provision and clothing amounting to 
hundreds of thousands of dollars were distributed to the 
sufferers by the Central Committee, throught the Ward 
Committees. 

20,000 people were fed daily for sixty days and many 
for a much longer time; about the same number were 
furnished with proper clothing. 

Money Subscribed. 

The money subscribed by the people of the United 
States and friends abroad reached $2,000,000 — ^which 
was paid out at the rate of $40,000 a day, for a month. 


APPENDIX 


275 


Transportation Facilities for Sufferers. 

Although every railroad company whose lines entered 
Galveston was a very heavy loser, train loads of sufferers 
were carried free of charge to friends in other parts of 
Texas and to almost every part of the Union. The 
Santa Fe Railroad Company gave the largest amount 
of free transportation to the Galveston sufferers; they 
issued about 2,000 passes. 

The Red Cross. 

The supplies sent to the Red Cross Society for the 
Galveston sufferers were in charge of Mr. Fred Ward, 
of the National Red Cross, who cooperated with the 
ward committees appointed by Mr. McVitie. 

They had charge of the New York Journal, New York 
Herald and the Chicago American trains of supplies. With 
part of the money received by the Red Cross, Miss Clara 
Barton ordered the erection of about 200 four-room 
cottages to cost $50,000. 

Home Assistance. 

The amount of assistance rendered Galveston sufferers 
by more fortunate Galvestonians and by sister towns 
inside the State of Texas in the way of shelter, food, 
clothing, medicine and nursing, will never be fully 
known; $100,000 being thought a conservative estimate 
of the sacrifices they cheerfullv offered on the altar of 
friendship. 

Thanks. 

The author of this book wishes to thank a number of 
members of the newspaper fraternity, private citizens and 


276 


APPENDIX 


Santa Fe Railroad officials, for courtesies extended and 
information given during her stay in the stricken city 
;fcvhile there collecting data and writing this volume. 

Later Official Data. 

On January 1, 1901, the ^‘Galveston News” published 
a statement of the property losses in Galveston by the 
storm of September 8, 1900. The figures are the result 
of a thorough investigation and are as accurate as it was 
possible to compute them under the circumstances. The 
property loss aggregates $17,058,275, divided as follows: 
Residence property and contents destroyed, $6,196,000; 
damage to other residences and contents, $2,250,000; 
church property, $500,000; municipal property, $336,000; 
wharves and shipping facilities, $656,000; manufactur- 
ing plants, $579,175; county property, $242,500; public 
institutions, $158,000; mercantile buildings, $397,200; 
merchandise in stock, $1,391,350; state property, $110,- 
600; railroads, telegraph, telephone, etc., $670,000; goods 
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The Brownie Song Book By s. o. Pratt 

Illustrated. Board covers in colors, 60c 


For sale by all Bookstores, or sent postpaid 
on receipt of price by the publishers 

LAIRD & LEE, 263 Wabash Ave., CH ICAGO 



jbbabt oi Choiob ProTio».-Qaarterly. »2.00 per annum. No. 28. January. 1901. 
Entered at Chicago Postofflce as second-class matter. 


Chicago: LAIRD & LEE, Publishers, aba Wabash Ave. 



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THIS GREAT JINGLE BOOK DELIGHTS THOUSANDS OF CHILDREN 


A Wonderful Juvenile Book 



BABY 


QOOSE 


HIS ADVENTURES 


BY 


FANNIE E. OSTRANDER 


“I’ll tell you what,” cried the 
Oosling gray, 

’Let’s go up to Mars, for a holiday t ’ 


Dashing Colored Pictures 


By R. W. HIRCHERT 


ROLLICKING, CATCHY RHYMES 
U nequalled in Children's Literature 


IT DESCRIBES 


The capers of the Gosling, the cat, the clown, the lion, the 
pig, the Hindoo, the Chinaman, the maiden fair, the 
little darky, the monkey, the kits — and dozens of 
other actors in this brilliant little drama. 


A BEAUTIFUL AND WELCOME GIFT 

FOR ALL OCCASIONS 
A Thing of Beauty and a Joy for All 


Large royal quarto, oblong shape, superb cover Qr 
in colors, fancy wrappers, in a box, . . . wpLZy 


Any bookseller will be pleased to show you BABY GOOSE, or it will 
be sent, postpaid, on receipt of price, by 


LAIRD & LEE, Publishers, 263-265 Wabash Ave., CHICAGO 


AO- 


WHY NOT MAKE YOUR LITTLE ONES HAPPY WITH A COPY? 


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